


Legacy: A Hero Has Come

by Kman134



Category: Original Work
Genre: Action/Adventure, Dwarves, Elves, F/F, F/M, Fantasy, Loss of Virginity, Magic, Monsters, Nudity, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-18
Updated: 2020-07-03
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:34:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 33,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23201029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kman134/pseuds/Kman134
Summary: Thousands of years, after Ragnarök tore the world asunder and the ancients ceased to be, humanity had started anew and with the arrival of the waygates, new races started to appear while the old races adjusted. However, dark forces have also arrived and threaten the world. Roland Mors, the son of a baker, receives a mysterious package on his twentieth birthday from his deceased grandfather (who is a skilled adventurer), containing a near-indestructible sword. After a fight at the market and facing off against an infernal boar, Roland decides to become an adventurer and is set on a path to be a hero. During his adventures, he forms a formidable party and faces off against evil foes like bandits, cults, demons, evil gods, monsters, and mad wizards.
Relationships: Roland Mors/harem





	1. Book 1: Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This piece is the new fantasy story I'm currently working on right now. compared to most, this one has explicit sexual encounters while still trying to appeal to story building. Feel free to leave comments and suggestions, and tell me what you think.

Roland Mors woke up to the sound of birds' singings, he felt the sun beamed through his bedroom window as he winced at the crack of dawn. He was never a morning person and hated having his sleep disturbed, his face scowling annoyingly while rustling in his sheets, but he had to put up with it.

Today was a special day, after all.

He threw the sheets away and got out of bed. It was around this time that Roland's father, Balder, had opened shop, and he did not wish to receive an earful yet about being late for work, again. Ever since he was a small boy, Roland helped ran his family's bakery in the small town of Amber Hills and sometimes did specific odd jobs for extra money. He never did well in school, not because he was stupid or lazy, but because it never excited him, and although he enjoyed working with his family, Roland desired more out of life.

_No time to be thinking about that now._

Roland walked up to the small mirror hanging on the wall. Staring at his reflection, he combed his hand through his unkempt black hair and tried to fix his bedhead, which frustrated him much as it was one of the things that fueled his hatred for mornings.

He stood tall and quite toned. With broad shoulders, fair skin, and had blue eyes. Roland got dressed, covering up his nude body, a plain white tunic, and a pair of brown trousers that fit his slender frame nicely, a typical fashion for those living in the countryside. He was quite comfortable in his attire and learned from his father to save as much money as possible, not wishing to spend on frivolous stuff but only on things that provide some use to him.

Roland climbed down the stairs and headed to the first floor. A delicious aroma wafted in the air, and his mouth watered, confirming him that the bakery was open. After roaming through the double doors, he arrived and donned his apron that hung beside the doorway. He spotted his father tending to the brick oven and watched the bread bake while his mother, Beatrice, stood at the counter, checking each customer of their purchases, and accepting their money. The place being immediately packed, customers lined up through the front door, escaping the cold morning outside for someplace warm.

Baldur noticed his son's presence.

"Well, it seems you finally got out of bed on time, son."

"Ha. Ha. Real funny, dad." Roland grabbed the trays of freshly baked goods, motioning to the shelves to stack them up. "I'm just here to get the job done. I got a lot of things planned later with Josephine."

"Aren't you excited about your birthday, Roland?" His mother asked. Her long black bangs fell to her face. "You only turn twenty once, and it's going to be fun."

"I wouldn't miss it for the world, mom. It's something I've…"

"That's good to hear. Everyone in the village will be coming, an important milestone for someone officially becoming an adult, and it'll make a fortune in catering." Baldur smiled at the thought. He scratched his prodigious girth absentmindedly before leaving the ovens to work their magic.

Roland and his mother glowered at the baker, amazed (that is, vexed) at how he can make a profit out of a situation. However, Baldur had already left outside to bring in another cord of wood to feed the fire. Nevertheless, the two resumed mending the shop until he returned.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Roland worked, and, in a few hours, the afternoon came in a flash. He gradually grew tired by this point as he sold and stacked all of the pastries. But Roland did not complain as his father had agreed to pay him fifteen pence at the end of his shift. Fortunately, the line of customers diminishing with the shelves becoming empty and the flames of the ovens becoming simmering embers.

With the hour growing slow, Roland decided to take a break. His stomach growled, and he grabbed one of the pastries, he tasted and took notice of the sweet and salty textures. After telling his mother, Roland strolled out to the front door. However, right before he could walk out of the bakery, the front door opened as another customer staggered in with the bell overhead ringing, stopping the baker's son in his tracks with one hand raised at his face.

Roland was confused as he stared at the skinny man, taking notice of how out of place his attire seemed to be. His slim blue suit and cap contrasted the baggy clothing everyone else in Amber Hills. Evidently, he appeared to have come along way with his hands fell to his knees, and he breathed heavily, beads of sweat falling from his brow as he tried to regain his composure.

Out of good conscience, Roland helped him up and brought him over to the closest table. He seated him before bringing him a wooden pitcher of water. The man was parched, and he drowned half the pitcher right away, not caring that his uniform was partially soaked, while Roland waited patiently for him to finish.

"Is there something we can do for you, Mr.…"

"Sorry, but I don't have time for formalities." Getting up out of his chair, he reached into the satchel that hung beside him, taking out an extended package wrapped in brown vallum. "I'm a courier from Crown City, and I just came to deliver this package to a…" He skimmed at the note stamped at the front. "…Mr. Roland Mors. I heard that he lives in this establishment. Is that correct?"

Roland nodded.

"Yes, that's me."

"Oh, thank God. You have no idea how long it took me to come here," the courier simpered. "I have for miles, lugging this parcel from the capital to this village without a steed."

How he could run from such a long distance without a horse, Roland did not ask, not wanting to pry any further and keep this man from his duties. The courier sighed in relief, happy his journey was over, giving him the package as the courier felt a weight lifted from his shoulders. After receiving his signature, he went on his way with a spring in his step as Roland watched the courier walk out the door.

_Well, that was strange._

Roland arched his brow but brushed it off. He examined the package, his curiosity piquing high. The parchment molded against the item, previewing the shape of what lay underneath. He checked the note, but it didn't say who sent it. So, raising his hand to the top, Roland prepared to tear it open.

"That's a large package. Who's it from?"

His mother and father approached him, the former lifting the helm of her bland dress while walking with her husband from behind the counter. Beatrice witnessed the whole exchange, and even she was curious as to what her son received. Standing behind him, she looked over Roland's shoulder, her gaze glued while watching him open the wrapping. Beatrice turned white and, for an instant, looked like she was about to faint, taking a step back while covering her mouth.

Baldur, clenching his fists, sneered with contempt. What has that old man done this time?

The torn parchment on the floor and its contents exposed. In Roland's hand, he held up a broadsword, one of such high quality that should belong to a knight. It almost seemed strange to behold. Unsheathing it from its brown leather prison, Roland got a better look at the sword. The bluestone wedged at the hilt glistened in the light and touching it sent chills, feeling warmed and alive. With the handle wrapped in black leather, it felt soft against his palm. Roland moved his fingers gently to the blade, the touch felt like cold steel against the skin, but the texture resembled polished silver. At the bottom of the edge, the words White Fang was etched, a name that seemed quite fitting.

Fluttering onto the table, Roland saw a letter and picked it up. His eyes lit up as he read every word.

_Dear Roland,_

_I hope life is treating you kindly. Sorry if this is the first time we ever talked, but I want you to know that I haven't forgotten about you. It took me a long time to find the perfect gift, but at least I delivered it to you on a momentous occasion. Obtaining this sword—White Fang—sacrificed half of my lifetime, so treat it with respect and be grateful for it._

_Jason Mors._

Roland could jump with glee, his eyes twinkling with excitement. Jason Mors was a famous adventurer who, for a long time, traveled around the continent to seek fame and fortune, and was also Baldur's father. For as long as he could remember, Roland had never once met his grandfather, only knowing him from the stories his father told him, which were not always pleasant. When Baldur moved to Amber Hills, before his son was born, he tried his best to distance himself from his father.

"Toss that fucking thing in the trash! Whatever that old man wrote, it's never any good!"

Roland flinched at the sound of his father's voice, nearly dropping both the sword and the letter from his grip. In all of his life, he had never heard his father cursed before. Baldur crossed his arms, his glare growing intense as Roland and his mother felt their blood turn cold.

He opened his mouth and was about to ask his father why, but Roland realized his father was in no mood to answer his inquiry, seeing his face turn as red as a tomato. Nodding his head, Roland complied as he left his parents alone.

"I can't believe it. After all these years, my father is still pulling the same routine again." Baldur plopped in the chair, pinching the bridge of his nose while feeling the vein on his forehead throbbing.

Beatrice placed both hands on his shoulder, massaging them as she helped him relieve his frustration, a frown forming on her face while feeling her husband's grievance. "It's been a long time since you two spoke, Baldur. You never know, he's getting old, and all those years must have changed him."

"My father is a thrill-seeking adventurer gallivanting throughout Aestraia, and even all over Sage, to any exciting and dangerous ordeals just for glory and women," Baldur stated. He sighed and threw a vague gesture. "Even if he is getting old, Beatrice, he'll never change, and he'll always find a way to continue his legacy…"

Beatrice comforted him, her arms wrapped around his neck, sharing the same grimace as her husband. Baldur always wondered how he wound up with such an attentive and commiserative woman as his wife. Baldur scowled, not at her, but the situation.

"…A legacy my father tried to force onto me, a long time ago."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Out on the town, Roland walked as he waved at every passerby, greeting them while making his way down the dirt road. The sword and its sheath hung over his right shoulder, catching the attention of his fellow villagers.

Amber Hills stood in the middle of vast farmlands in the center of the Aestraian Kingdom. The town took up a lot of space with which comprised of small houses and shops, the buildings made of wood with straw roofs, and stood on cobblestone brick foundations, set in a large clearing surrounded by pastoral lands and cultivated fields. On the outskirts of the town lay the Adamant Forest with its thick trees standing tall for hundreds of years. It had persisted since the days of Ragnarök, and it has divided Amber Hills from its neighbors if not for a few routes that kept them connected.

It was there that many of the townsfolk would toss their garbage, thanks to a decree passed by the village elders to which prevented Amber Hills from smelling like a bog swamp. As he passed the church and reached the gate, Roland stopped in his tracks, a tinge of guilt reflected on his face. He took a deep breath as he looked back at the sword. A gift from his grandfather, someone Roland barely knew anything about, and because of that, Roland wouldn't have a problem tossing it away. However, he still could not bring himself to do so.

He couldn't discard the sword as it was a gift that brought him a sensation of excitement. Roland unsheathed it halfway as he walked. It brought chills as he gripped the handle. The young baker smiled bewilderingly as the blade glistened in the sunlight, shining bright enough to hurt his eyes. He flinched back from it, blinking several times until his vision returned, and then put it away. A sword like that was uncommon in the countryside. They were often crafted by skilled blacksmiths in cities, or even by the dwarves that lived in the mountains, selling them to soldiers for battle, and to people from the Adventurer's Guild to complete quests, not to farmers or laborers.

That was when Roland became lost in thought as he leaned against a wooden wagon, staring at the clouds in the sky while watching them block the sun. He had always dreamed of being an adventurer. Seeing more of the world than just fields, and all the remarkable sights as Roland imagined such wanderlust.

 _Oh, to have a life like that…  
_  
"Hey! Roland! Wait up!"

Roland twirled and watched at the sound of his childhood friend, halting him from proceeding any further. Josephine Alder ran in his direction. Her blue overalls fluttered with each step as she created a cloud of dust behind her.

"Where have you been, Josephine? I haven't seen you all day," Roland shouted.

Josephine stopped as she had already made her way towards the wagon Roland rested on, her white ponytail waving in the breeze while cracking a wide grin across her lively, tanned caramel face. Hands behind her back, she made sure to keep them hidden from Roland's eyes, but from her expression, he could tell she had something to give him.

"Sorry, my father kept me busy at the mill. Luckily, I made it just in time to wish you a happy birthday," she said. "Didn't think I would forget, did you?"

Roland shrugged.

 _Of course, there was that one time…_  
  
"Not at all, Josephine. I'm happy that you remembered," he mused.

Roland pivoted behind her, trying to catch a glimpse at what she was hiding. Each time he tried, she teasingly stepped away.

"So, are you going to show me what you have behind your back?"

"Uh-uh-uh. Not until you close your eyes." Raising one hand, she wagged her index finger in front of him. Her grin grew slyer. "And don't open them until I say you can."

Roland rolled his eyes. It was hard to believe she was the same age as him, asking such childish things. Still, he obeyed. He just hoped it wasn't another practical joke. "If it's another mouse in a box, I'm going to be very angry."

"It won't be. I promise."

With no way for him to see, Josephine lifted both hands in front of his face with Roland smelling the scent of pine.

"Okay," Josephine said. "You can open your eyes now."

His eyebrows rose, and Roland stared at what she had presented him. The figurine was small, yet bulky. It was carved in the shape of a falcon with its wings expanded, and its claws ready to strike. It was attached to a small stand, providing a perfect balance for it. The wood was smoothed in all places, lacking any perfects that he could see, which was not surprising since it was made by the hands of the woodcutter's daughter.

Josephine glanced up at Roland, who immediately took the figurine with a dumbfounded expression on his face.

"So, what do you think?" she asked. "It took me three nights, but I believe it came out the way I hoped."

"It looks amazing, Josephine," said Roland. "It so lifelike that it might fly off from my hand."

"You think so? Oh, I knew you would love it. I know how much you love birds. So, that's where I got the idea from."

On the contrary, Roland hated birds, especially in the mornings. However, from how excited she looked and knowing how long she worked on it, he didn't have the heart to tell her. After putting it in his pocket, all he could do was smile and nod.

"Well, you have outdone yourself," said Roland. "It truly is beautiful, though."

Josephine blushed and did something that caught Roland by surprise. She hugged him as her arms wrapped around his waist. Roland wasn't sure if he should do the same, but he did. Josephine's face nestled against his chest as he took notice but did not say anything. Then she broke away, becoming flustered while Roland chuckled at her expression. A lot of people stared at them, which made the whole thing embarrassing. After she fixed her composure (and her cotton blouse), Josephine poked her finger at his chest.

"So, are you going to tell me where you got that sword?" his tomboyish friend asked.

"It's a gift from my grandfather." Roland loosened the strap over his shoulder and then presented the sheath to her.

Josephine got close enough to see. Roland awkwardly unsheathed the sword, lifting it at an angle where the light didn't bounce off the blade. She turned away, flinching as she covered her blue eyes. Once her vision returned, Josephine took the sword, already enticed by its design. If only they made axes like this, she thought.

Putting it back in its sheath, Josephine pushed the sword back to him, hearing a soft gasp expel from his lips.

"It's a good thing you have it," she said. "where we are going, you are going to need it."

"…and where is that, exactly?"

"To the Adamant Forest. your next gift lies just outside the outskirts of the village." She grabbed him by the hand and yanked Roland to get a move on out through the gate, even though he was heading home. Despite her small and slender physique, Josephine was quite strong, strong enough to get someone as tall as Roland. He sighed and didn't protest, accompanying his childhood friend to the forest as he kicked his feet.

_What's the worst that could happen?_


	2. Book 1: Chapter 2

"So…tell me again why we are here?"

Roland and Josephine hiked through the forest, passing through the tall evergreens and oaks, and climbing over the rivers that flowed through. Raising their heads at the sky, they both saw the sun gradually descend from its zenith. They had walked for over an hour and a half, already reaching the forest's end.

Josephine glanced at each tree, taking note of each of their position while making sure to watch her step.

_Birch, Oak, Evergreens, Weeping Willows…we're definitely on track._

"I told you, Roland. This is where your next present is," she mused. "If we run into any trouble, you can use that sword to chase them away."

Having no experience in swordsmanship, that was going to be an issue for Roland, if ever a beast or a monster pounce unexpectedly. Josephine twirled around and playfully skipped backward, but then turned back as she almost tripped. They walked across a long log bridge that hovered a rapidly flowing river. If she had fallen, then it would have been the end.

"Well, you better be careful. These logs are slippery and if anything happened…"

Roland spoke too soon. Right when Josephine placed her foot down, she slipped, her leather loafers gaining friction on the moss-covered surface. She lost her footing and nearly fell into the river, screaming at the top of her lungs for her dear life. Fortunately, Roland acted fast and quickly grabbed her arm. The thought of losing his childhood friend was unbearable for him, which gave him the strength to save her from such a fate. He lifted her back on her feet, an accomplishment his scrawny arms managed to do, pulling her close to his chest while looking down to see if she was alright, though he knew she was tough enough to pull herself together. Nevertheless, that didn't stop him from worrying.

Josephine frowned, holding him tight, grateful that he had saved her life on time. Her life nearly flashed before her eyes, reminiscing of the times Roland got her out of such sticky situations, and vice versa. She thanked him under her wheezing breath, her heart still beating rapidly. The forest grew silent as they felt like time had remained still, refusing to let each other go. They then gazed into each other's eyes, their lips slowly coming closer but then pulled away. The birds above the canopy chirped, and they both came to their senses.

A loud crack emanated from underneath Roland and Josephine's feet, and they had to get to the other side as fast as possible. From their combined weight, the rotting wood below was breaking. The two immediately jumped off and, right at that very moment, the log collapsed, breaking in two and sailing adrift down the river.

"Well, I guess we're going to have to find another way back, huh?" Roland tried to make light of the situation, but Josephine nodded, her cheerful demeanor faded. They then pressed onward, their faces completely red.

_Calm yourself, Josephine. You put too much into this, and you can't afford to mess it up._ Josephine sighed and clenched her small chest. She had a determined scowl, her brow furrowed as she walked farther away from her friend. _After we get to the spot, I'll tell him how I truly feel.  
  
_

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Meanwhile, in another part of the Adamant Forest, two farmers walked through the thick oaks, their bare feet shallowly sinking into the mud. The long leaves were large, rarely allowing any light to shine, except for a few glimmers beaming through the leaves. Their straw sunhats became useless in such an environment. Lugging large bags over their shoulders, they stumbled into a hollow where small quarry too up much of the space while the bog covered the marshy floors. Towering over them was a large stone ring with inscriptions carved on the ridges, a relic of a bygone era as it remained motionless, gathering moss and nature unhurriedly engulfing its size.

Throwing their burlap sacks on the ground, the farmers looked around for the perfect spot. The tall one pointed while putting his pickaxe down and absent-mindedly scratched the crotch of his overalls. The contents dumped on the ground, rotten food spilling out as it scattered all over. One of the farmer's kept a tight grip on his shovel. He was paranoid about his surroundings. His gaze darted in all directions for whatever might jump out as his short and stout stature made him an easy target.

"I don't know, Warren. This place is too close to town," he said. "Are you sure we should be doing this?"

_Oh, not this again…_

Warren lowered his head at his friend, narrowing his brows as he did not see the harm in it. "Oh, quit your caterwauling, Paul. All the other dumping spots were taken, so why not just cut the middleman." He swatted a vague gesture while tossing his empty sack as Paul.

"I'm just saying this seems like a bad omen," Paul remarked. "I mean, there's a waygate standing in this place. We don't know what kind of monstrous creatures are lurking in this part of the woods, and it would be a problem if we're desecrating its sacred grounds."

There are rumors that the Adamant Forest was riddled with monsters and demons, lurking throughout the trees and rocks, waiting to snatch on wondering prey. The very thought made Paul shiver that made him jump as white as Warren, but Warren would brush it off as nearly superstitious tales even their parents used to scare them.

"Give me a break, brother. That waygate hasn't worked in centuries," he scoffed.

Warren turned around with a grin, scratching his long goat beard as he laughed at his brother. When they finished, they walked from the hollow and headed by to town. Warren patted his brother on the back while holding his pickaxe casually behind his neck. To show off his defiance, Warren raised his pickaxe and playfully swung it around, his brother ducking and avoided getting hit.

"If there's anything that comes at our way, I'll show them a thing or two," Warren continued. "Come on, I want to get my whistle wet at the party, and I don't want all the booze and women taken up before we get there. Besides, we're dumping a few rotten apples and leftovers all over. It's not hurting anyone."

The farmers were gone, and the hollow was quiet. Out from a small opening in the rocks, a radiant glow motioned out, illuminating the whole vicinity. Flames erupted from the hole along with squeals. A large boar poked its head with diamond tusks as it strutted through the marsh, looking for the ones who disturbed its slumber with crimson eyes.

The tufts of its hair were set ablaze, and its skin was as black as charcoal, camouflaging itself in the dark. Its wet snout sniffing the air, something smelt good. The flaming boar staggered over to the rotten food, its snout grazing at the pile. It bit down, the sound of sloppy chomps escaping its muzzle with wet, musky juices dripped messily.

With the ground cleaned off, the flaming boar searched for more food. It was not full, not entirely. Looking from the corner of its eyes, the boar noticed the trail of footprints leading out of the woods. The monster licked its lips with smoke festering from its mouth and pursued the trail, more yummy stuff could be at the end. There was no way it could pass such an opportunity to feast.  
  


~~~~~~~~~~~~

The darkness of the forest dissipated, and Roland and Josephine winced as they found their way into a large clearing. Tired, they wanted to stop and rest. Josephine was sure the way to their destination was north. Her sense of direction had never stirred them wrong. However, Roland was beginning to think they were lost and should turn back before they missed the party.

Unfortunately, Roland was about to eat his words. After blinking a couple of times, Josephine's face lit up while fisting up in the air before dashing off. Roland slumped with his arms hanging low. Fatigue had already taken him, his legs shaking, ready to give out at any moment. Still, he had enough energy to keep going as he stared in confusion about his friend's newfound burst.

"We're here! We're finally here!" Josephine shouted. "I told you it was right here!"

Planting her feet on the wet grass with the sun beating down on her, she spread her arms on both sides as Roland became more perplexed.

He crossed his arms, and he arched a brow.

"Okay. I give up. What am I supposed to be looking at?" Roland questioned.

He tilted his head to the side. To his eyes, it was just a valley. She puffed her lips and placed both hands on her hips. After catching her breath, Josephine stomped over and took Roland by the hand, leading him off to get a closer view.

"Look. Now, do you see it?" Asked Josephine. She swung her arm in emphasis while pointing at the clearing once more.  
  


Roland's mouth fell agape.

He finally saw it now. Roland found himself in a field of flowers within the valley, each one an assortment of colors, and the fragrance bringing a peaceful sensation as he inhaled. Large and sturdy boulders protruded from the earth, rising high in the background while vines entangled the surface, overlooking tall mountains in the north. It was called the Mountains of Lear, and it shined lovingly by the sun's red glow over the horizon.

It was a battlefield. Littering all over the fields, there were weapons of all shapes and sizes sticking out of the soil. The skeletal remains of perished warriors seeping into the floor, unrelated to the tranquil beauty of the flower field, their armor with sigils of a black raven, and a blazing sun still attached to their bodies. Some remains didn't appear to be human, looking either quite large and possessed many limbs and orifices.

_Therian soldiers and Aestraian soldiers? Was this the Battle of Adamant, and the Eldritch King's last stand?_

"Four days ago, during our hunt for the lumber, my father and I discovered this place," said Josephine. "And I know you like stuff like this. So, I thought this would be the perfect gift for you."

There was a serendipitous tone in her voice that told Roland that she had more in store than what she had planned. Josephine led him further in the valley. A long slope spiraled between two hills down directly to a large lake with the water reflecting the sun's rays. They sat down at the bank, hunkering on the sand. They began taking in the scenery. It seemed to be safe. No lake snakes to come and sink their fangs into their skin as they took off their shoes and soak their feet into the water.

The scenery was breathtaking — all of Roland and Josephine's fatigue vanishing as they leaned back. The woodcutter's daughter brushed her shoulder against him teasingly, and Roland leered at her. She waited for him to express his gratitude, and she wouldn't stop poking him until he finally spoke. He was grateful for it. His mind was just in the clouds at the moment and wasn't sure if he could confine it in him to tell Josephine his troubles.

"Thank you, Josephine. This has been the best birthday gift you could have given me," said Roland. "Except for that bird figurine, that is."  
  


At first, she was happy. However, she noticed something seemed off about her friend because of his body hunching and his gaze lingering wearily.

"What's wrong, Roland?" asked Josephine. "I know you too well, and that your daydreaming doesn't mean you have something burdening on your mind."

Her smile faded, replaced with a sullen expression, and took hold of one of his hands. In her eyes, a twinkle surfaced. Josephine was typically brash, but she could be empathetic and surprisingly perceptive at times. Roland moved his hand away and glanced elsewhere, hoping his friend would take the hint, but she was persistent.

"You've been thinking about becoming an adventurer, again," guessed Josephine. "Right?"

Roland sighed and nodded.

"How did you know?" he asked.

"Easy. Ever since you got that sword, you seem a bit more chipper as it's written all over your face," Josephine stated. "Also, I've been into your room. there are posters of famous heroes and warriors covering your walls."

He pursed his lips and sighed.

"I like working at the bakery, and it's good to be with my family, but I want more than that," said Roland. "It's my dream to make something of myself. I want to go out and see the world. I want to fight monsters, discover new lands, and maybe save a princess, or two."

Josephine became a bit miffed at that last part.

"Be honest and tell me," Roland added. "Come on, Josephine. I know you also have dreams like that."

Josephine rubbed the back of her neck while averting her gaze. Her finger tracing lines in the sand. Roland wasn't the only one easy to read, and he couldn't keep a tiny smile from betraying his amusement. Sometimes, she can also be an open book. Still, seeing her fluster was too cute for Roland.

Josephine frowned and remained silent. After a few seconds, she turned back and sighed, her shoulders slumped as she gave up.

"Fine! You're right! I also want more out of life than just living in a small town." Standing on her knees, she moved close to his ear and whispered. It served no purpose since they were only people in the area. "My dream is to become the greatest woodcutter in all of Aestraia. I want to join the Woodcutter's Guild, train under the masters, and then go and open up my lumber mill. That way, not only will I be able to supply the kingdom with wood, but I can also plant new trees and tend to them for future generations."

Roland gave her a deadpanned stare. He was not surprised that her ambition was wood-related. She practically dreams of wood, but he had to admit that they were big dreams. Josephine took notice of his expression and pouted, playfully punching him in the arm as Roland flinched.

"Sorry! I think it's a great dream," Roland corrected. "I wish it could all come true. That we could leave Amber Hills, and then go to places like Crown City or Geb, but it's all just a dream."

Josephine comfortingly braced Roland with her arm locked around his, and he felt her head against his shoulder.

"Dreams can become true as long as you work hard to make it so," she stated. Her embrace grew tighter.

"Will you be there to help?" he asked.

Biting her lower lip nervously, but she gathered enough courage to take the plunge. Josephine's face flickered with delight as she moved closer. She confidently kissed his lips, and shock overtook him, her tongue tenderly tasting the inside of his mouth. Out of instinct, he reciprocated and held her tight, but that did not last long as she pulled away.

"Does that answer your question? You know I'll always be there for you." Josephine giggled.

His face turned completely red. This situation seemed so unreal to Roland as he had never seen this side of Josephine, and he could see the effort she put into it. Usually, throughout their childhood, she was the wild and fiery type, while Roland was the calm and thoughtful one. She had the strength and determination that made him, and most of the boys in Amber Hills, envious as it was undoubtedly higher, having obtained such a demeanor for a long time during her woodcutter training.

However, the way she made herself vulnerable and showing such affection threw his view out in disarray. Her small breasts pressed against his shoulder as she held him tight. When she let go, Josephine laid down in the sand. Her body stretched before her target in an attempt to be more seductive.

"You can do whatever you want to me. I don't mind," Josephine assured. A meek tone of voice escaping her lips.

"You…you can't be serious, right?" Roland had lost all expression.

She gave him a shy smile. She unbuckled her overalls and lifted her cotton shirt, giving him a view of her beautiful athletic body. Josephine wasn't wearing any underwear, and every part of her underneath was bare. Roland gaped at her as she begged for him to take her as she grabbed him by the hand and pulled it to her breasts. His hand cupped across the small, soft mounds with her nipple poking between his fingers. Despite her being so upfront, she was still new to all of this, which was the same for Roland.

"Are you sure about this? Are you sure we're ready?" he asked. "Also, what about the party? I don't think we have enough time, and we might miss it."

"Don't worry. We can be quick," Josephine whispered. "I want you, Roland. I want this moment for us to become one, and I know you feel the same as I do. We can take it slow and not rush it."

Roland fiddled with the strap of his sheath as he tossed the sword on the patch of grass, and then hastily did the same taking off his shirt. His slim chest and stomach caressed by Josephine's hands. He reached around her back, raising her and gave her another kiss (this time, on her neck). His erection pressed against her stomach. Her heart was pounding with excitement, aroused from the intimacy of their skin touching.

She could not take it anymore, and her lower body quivered. Roland lowered his trousers just far enough to free his cock. Josephine gasped as she could not look away from its size, worried that such a tool would not fit. On the other hand, from the way her crotch rubbed against his manhood, she was eager and wanted to take it all. Swallowing the lump in his throat, it took Roland a couple of seconds to angle himself carefully, and right when he was in position, the tight crush of her moist, lower lips opened to accept his head. Josephine winced and moaned as blood trickled out from her line and on his shaft.

Roland stopped, thinking he was hurting her and was about to apologize. Josephine cupped his face and caressed through his scraggly hair, assuring him that she was okay and to keep going. He slowly pushed deeper into her, feeling the walls of her womanhood growing loose as Josephine became accustomed, the momentum of their pleasuring building up concurrently between them.

Picking her up by the waist, Roland brought Josephine onto his lap as he sat up, thrusting his hips into a slow, deliberate rhythm, seeing her brown skin glistened from the sweat of her body as she wrapped her arms around his neck. She began a slow rotation of her hips. As she moved, Josephine convulsed from the sensation, her face lying and softly biting against her neck. He started building up his pace, his rod pulsating hard while pushing deeper into her.

His erection grew hard. Josephine could feel Roland's manhood was about to explode, and he could feel her walls tightening more around it.

"Josephine, I'm about to…"

"It's okay, Roland. Let it all out inside me," she said. "This is a safe day, and you don't have to be afraid."

With one last thrust, he erupted in decadent orgasm, pulsing inside her as she moaned loudly, echoes of her voice heard throughout the fields. Her body tensed and tightened around him, digging her nails into his back, and dragging them to the sides with blood seeping out. Roland and Josephine collapsed to the ground, her body lying on top of his when fatigue began to take over as their eyes grew heavy.

They remained still while gazing into their dilated pupils, savoring the last quivers of pleasure that surged in their system as they both panted in quick bursts of breath. Then Roland kissed her lips before she rolled off of him, holding hands while gazing blissfully at the crimson sky, childhood friends no more but have officially cemented themselves as lovers as they thought the stars were shining upon them.

Josephine leaned up on her side and fondled her hand against his chest. "It's getting late. Do you think we should head back?"

"Nah. Let's stay here for a little while. We can take a short nap before going home." A yawn escaped from Roland's exhausted maw.

"We came a long way, and our little fun has taken a lot out of us," he added. "Once we're well and rest, then we can leave."

Roland had his arm under her, his palm grasping at her bare bottom while providing her neck some elevation.

"Do you think that's a good idea?" Josephine asked.

"I do. Besides, the party's not going to begin for a few hours," Roland commented. "We can afford a few lectures from our parents."

"That's fair. We can say we got lost, and it took us a while to retrace our steps. It's not like they're going to send out a search party right away," Josephine mused. "So, has this been the best birthday for you?"

"The very best," said Roland. "I can't think of anything that could ruin it."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Everything was set up. Tents were set up on the grasslands outside of Amber Hills, luring hundreds of people with the smell of delicious foods and exciting games. The sight of pastries and roasted meats going eaten fast, and freshly brewed ale provided to wash it all down. A sizeable wooden stage was built as the band played so loud, the music reached out from the party, the sounds of flutes and mandolins heard from even in the forests.

In the town of Amber Hills, such festivities are celebrated only once. When a child turns twenty, then he is officially a man. It is also customary for the father to present a speech with his son on stage, but Baldur was having trouble with that predicament.

He stood on the sidelines, waiting to congratulate his son for his coming-of-age. The baker wasn't dumb to leave his stand unattended as Beatrice made sure no one would steal all of their baked goods, selling them to the villagers while ringing in twice as much, much to their chagrin. Baldur had worked all day on his speech, but all that was missing was the birthday boy.

Where in God's name is that boy? Hopefully, he's already disposed of that trash and is coming back. It's almost time for the ceremony to start and serious bigwigs from the town have already arrived.

There was a rumor going around that the village alderman was also taking part in the event. After hearing such news, it wasn't long until that he had already started stuffing his face, tossing the bones of his meal on top of the wooden plate in his hand. Eating was the one thing that kept his nerves relaxed, especially during such a momentous occasion. Looking around, he spotted an elderly man in a black robe with red accents, shaking hands, and greeting numerous people who crossed his path, which made the hairs on Baldur's neck stand up as the rumors were proven correct.

When it comes to having a conversation with influential people, Baldur never knew what to do and had a habit of jumbling his words. He didn't take his gaze away when he noticed the alderman slowly walking in his direction. His face started turning white, and he was relieved it wasn't because of choking on a bone, but then turned away when a hand settled on his shoulder. Solomon greeted Baldur with a wide grin and passed him a mug full of ale.

"You look like you could use a drink, Baldur," Solomon suggested. "This will help you with your nerves. Can't let you have a panic attack or a heart attack to be precise."

Baldur chuckled and grinned sheepishly.

"Thanks. I think I do need it," Baldur replied. He put the mug to his lips, tasting the dryness of malted barley, followed by the nutty aftertaste in the potent brew.

Solomon clashed with Baldur as he stood beside him. He was quite tall, with broad shoulders and strong muscles from years of swinging his ax. His skin was tanned just like his daughter and had a jaw like an iron hammer, having only a pair of pants and a blue vest that complimented his physique. Since he walked over, Solomon's mere presence had already made many of the women swoon in desire, which made Baldur feel pangs of jealousy as he was fat and balding compared to his chiseling and handsome friend, but they too close to let that ruin anything.

"So, your son's not here, too," said Solomon. "I assumed he was with Josephine, but I can't find her either."

Baldur turned to look at Solomon, arching a brow at the woodsman. A worried look plastered on his face. For as long as he could remember, the Alder family and the Mors family have had a good relationship, the former supplying the wood while the latter paying them fairly (and a few pastries). However, since their children have been out for so long, it's nothing to assume the worse as Baldur patted Solomon on the back. He barely held back a snicker, all of his previous concerns disappearing.

"Don't worry about it. I'm sure the kids are off somewhere having fun," Baldur said. "Hopefully, it's not the kind of fun that could give us grandchildren."

"That's my daughter, you know," remarked Solomon. His glare faded, and he started laughing. "If she does have Roland's child, then it just means more helping hands for us! But, seriously. It's about time they finally got together, though."

_Yeah, about damn time…_

Baldur crossed his arms, a proud expression on his face as he smiled.

"Well, once he gets here, we can make the wedding preparations," He joked.

"Josephine will make a good wife for my son and an excellent daughter-in-law, and I can drink to their long life and fertility." He wiggled the mug back and forth, taking another swig and feeling its drunken buzz taking him.

"I wish the same, my friend." Solomon smiled, and his blue eyes leered. "Speaking of fertility. I might need to cut our conversation short." Standing in the distance, three milkmaids waved at him and beckoned him over.

Solomon winked and dashed to their sides, having youthful and voluptuous curves bound in long white and pink dresses. Their tender gazes never leaving him as he accompanied them. His arms around them, and then accompanied them to a somewhere more private behind the granary. With his wife gone and only having Josephine by his side, Solomon was not looking for romance, but that did not mean he wasn't looking for company. He would regale tales with vivid accounts of the many women he bedded, and although Baldur thought it was good that Solomon was getting out more, though Baldur wished he was with women his own age.

After he was gone, Baldur met with the alderman, shaking his hand with a firm grip to show his respect. Having been overseeing the town of Amber Hills for years, Alderman Stavros had no problem with socializing with his people, even though some might see it as an inconvenience.

He tried to keep it together, and quickly released his grip as to not make things awkward. "Alderman S-Stavros. It's a-an honor to have you here," Baldur stuttered. "But, w-won't the lord of the land be furious if he catches wind of you shirking off your duties?"

"Rest assured, Mr. Mors. That fat bastard is too busy drinking his wine to notice anything," Alderman Stavros retorted. "Although, if he does hear about it, I'll make sure to take full responsibility and spare you all from his wrath."

Baldur managed a small nod.

"Well, let's hope it doesn't come to that, huh?" He coughed.

Alderman Stavros glanced around.

"So, where is the birthday boy? It's almost time for him to be up on that stage, and he is nowhere in sight."

"Don't worry, your honor. My son is just spending time with his friend and might be a little late," Baldur stated. "He'll make it before the ceremony commences. Just enjoy yourself, and everything will…what the hell is that?"

Off in the distance, an amber glow immitted from the forest. Baldur moved away from the alderman, squinting to see what was making such disturbance. He wasn't the only one. He met with half of the guests turning approaching him, peering over to see what he saw as the glow grew brighter, and a wave of heat came in their direction.

A loud squeal bellowed as the ground shook, sounding as though a heard of wild pigs was about to stampede into Amber Hills. Not an uncommon occurrence to happen, boars tended to stay away from populated places when running amok, but it was getting closer to the party. Baldur glanced toward Beatrice to see her leaving the stand and making her way to her husband.

"What do you think it is, Baldur?" She asked.

"I'm not sure…" said Baldur, who was standing at the front of the crowd. He spotted Solomon and the milkmaids, looking as though they threw clothes back on at the last minute. They joined the masses and had the same curious and cautious expressions on their faces.

Flames erupted through the trunks and set a small portion of trees ablaze, the fire covering almost an acre but did not spread, nearly hitting the guests as screams of terror could be heard. Many of the guests stepped away in time, but a few remained to face what was about to unfold, Baldur and Beatrice standing their ground while Solomon grabbed his ax (he never left home without it) and looked like he was ready for a fight.

The trees immediately turned to ash, and something unnatural poked through. The infernal boar trotted out and stared angrily at the crowd. Smoke festered from its nostrils. Baldur and the villagers grimaced. Out of all the creatures in the forest, they had never seen anything like it. Death was upon them, and a miasma of fear and woe consumed the people of Amber Hills as the boar charged straight at them with its tusks raised.


	3. Book 1: Chapter 3

A cold air breezed through the valley, caressing against Roland and Josephine's nude bodies as they coddled against each other. They remained asleep, but Roland gradually awoke and shivered. His hands rubbed against his eyes as he looked around, remembering the lake and debauchery he and his friend performed.

_It's so dark. What time is it?_

Revelation crossed his face as he glowered at the sky. The sun had disappeared, and the shattered moon took its place, drifting above the earth while a myriad of stars kept company. Roland climbed up on one of the boulders and looked over at the horizon, his gaze beaming at the amber glow arising from afar, and then slumped when he got down.

He was supposed to be at the party before dark, standing on stage as he and his father gave a speech, commemorating his abandonment of childhood and taking up the rains of manhood. Unfortunately, he blew it as he mentally beat himself up.

_I was taking a short name, and then I completely fell asleep. Father is going to be so furious with me once we get back home._ He saw Josephine still had her eyes closed, peacefully, as she snoozed. A droplet of sweat formed on her temple. _And I think Solomon is going to kill me for making his daughter a woman._

Roland shook Josephine awake. Her eyes quickly fluttered up, and she sat up. She stretched her arms and groaned as she groggily turned to her lover.

"What's the matter?" She asked. Josephine watched Roland gather their clothes, erratically tossing hers back as he donned on his own.

"Get your clothes on. We have to get moving." Roland panicked. "We overslept, and the party had already started."

Josephine sprang up and put everything on, her overalls becoming difficult but managed to strap the buttons in time. She shifted her glower at Roland, a cross-shaped vein forming on her temple, and the two sprinted to the woods.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Josephine grumbled while keeping up with Roland's speed.

"I told you taking a nap in the valley was the stupidest idea!" Her voice was loud enough to be heard throughout the forest. "For God's sake, we are going to be in so much trouble when we get back!"

Roland and Josephine ran through the forest with lightning speed. They tried to focus their way out, retracing their steps while following the glow in the distance, but the night sky and the darkness it cast still made it harder to navigate as they watched their footing, though almost tripped on a couple of protruding roots.

He glanced over his shoulder and scowled. "First of all, you didn't tell me it was stupid. Secondly, shouting is not going to do anything for us, and need to focus on finding our way out," Roland remarked. The sheath of his sword swinging around his arm. "As long as we follow the light, then we'll be home free and get…to…"

Roland's pace slowed down, his loafers dragging against the soil. Catching up to him, Josephine was about to ask why he stopped when she heard a loud shout, followed by several more. They were out of the woods, but Amber Hills was in flames, watching some of the villagers drawing water from the nearby wells and streams, and working together to put out the fire almost to no avail. The rest, however, tended to the injured as they also took care of the dead.

"What the hell happened?" Tears trailed down Roland's face.

Roland stumbled forward, his legs shaking and body growing numb. The village stood for a hundred years, and it was coming down in a matter of seconds. The only home he knew was no more. He couldn't think clearly, nor understand what was going on. He wanted to scream, but his mouth wouldn't let him as his heart felt like it was about to break. Josephine snatched his hand and snapped Roland out of his daze as he saw her face contorted in dread.

"Roland. We need to keep going." whimpered Josephine. "We need to find our parents and get out of here."

The two ran through the city, keeping themselves to the roads to which the flames didn't spread. The Mors Bakery was partially burning and was holding together. The roof resisted the fires that tried to engulf the tiles while the foundation stood firm even when there was a giant hole where the front door used to be. Roland mentally sighed in relief that his house was still intact, albeit partially, but he shook that off as he and Josephine pushed onward, looking around for any sign of their families. They called out, but there was no response. Then loud squeals were heard from the other side of the village.

"Was that a pig?" Roland asked.

"Only one way to find out," said Josephine.

They charged forward, not caring for the crumbling buildings as they avoided getting crushed from the debris. As they made their way to the end, Roland and Josephine gaped at the carnage. The tents and stands were smashed, leaving only torn sheets and broken wood behind. The stage set ablaze. The instruments to which the band played became ash, and many of the remaining guests who avoided the onslaught were letting out desperate screams as they tried to find a means to escape while searching for their loved ones. The haze of dead flesh and cremation sickened them.

Roland and Josephine watched, their faces turning white, as they spotted some of the villagers formed into a militia and fending off against a giant boar. Their families were a part of it, using whatever tools they could find and swung it at the monster. The battle, if it could even be called that, was mostly one-sided.

They hit the creature with all their might, but their weapons merely grazed its dark skin, making only slight scratches and barely penetrated the flesh. The large boar swung its tusks with a lot of force and aimed low, knocking some of its attackers at their abdomens as Roland saw his parents flung three feet while breaking their fall against one of the tables. Josephine saw her father. Bruises covered his body as he gripped his ax tightly, making a foolhardy dash forward and struck hard.

Unfortunately, right when the blade of his ax hit the diamonds of its tusks, the head broke off and stabbed at the ground. Solomon twirled the handle and jabbed the sharp end into its right eye. The creature roared furiously, its snout ramming him in the chest, knocking the wind from his lungs as he grabbed its talk, holding on to dear life while the boar shook him off.

Josephine placed her hands on her mouth as she could barely stand watching her father in pain. She looked to Roland, but she did not see fear, instead only anger welling up in his furrowed brow. He clenched his fists. A fire burned in the very pit of his soul as he gritted his teeth. It was all happening too fast, and Roland needed to put a stop to it.

_Someone has to be the hero!_

Gathering up all of his courage, Roland forced himself to stagger into the fight, the smoke clogging his throat as he coughed while his eyes watered. Josephine and the people around her observed him as they hid behind the tables.

"Roland! What in the maker's name are you doing?" Josephine screamed.

"I'm going to try and distract that…beast!" Roland yelled back. "Once its eyes are on me, it'll give everyone a chance to flee!"

"What! Are you insane? You're going to get yourself killed!"

At that point, Roland wasn't listening anymore. A lot of lives were on the line, and he had no other choice but to act.

Roland had no intention of running away, though even if he wanted to, there was no point. He was in the infernal boar's proximity with its one working eye taking notice of him. He picked up a rock and threw it, striking the monster at the side of its head, its ire boiling as it managed to throw the woodsman and slam his back against a tree bunk.

Roland unsheathed his sword, and he squeezed the handle tight. His hand hurting as his palm crinkled the leather. The boar moved backward, not to retreat but to make another charge, ready to impale him with its tusks lowered, but going in blind as blood trickled down its muzzle. He bought the militia enough time to escape, dropping their weapons and heading to a safe place. Staring at their son in distraught, Baldur and Beatrice wanted to stay and help him, but Roland told them to get to the high ground as they complied as there was no time for arguing.

He raised his sword with a trembling hand, held it up to his body, and blocked the boar's attack. Sparks flew from the sharp steel, grazing against the diamonds wedged in the ivory while Roland planted its feet to slow its pace. Its snout puffed smoke, and it roared a burst of fire, its enormous body adding more momentum as Roland's feet dragged against the dirt while pushing back.

He dived away.

The sleeves of his tunic singed but extinguished it quickly. Roland almost dropped his sword if not for his iron grip. Getting back up, he righted himself and swung sloppily at the boar. Roland was lucky enough to get a slice, a small cut on its stomach, with the blade's edges stained crimson. If the boar wasn't angry before, then Roland had surely brought on its wrath. It lashed out, turned around, and lifted it legs, kicking Roland in the stomach and throwing him into some hedges.

He coughed and staggered upward, blood spilling from his lips. His back flared as Roland felt something cracked. His legs nearly gave up and shook. He stabbed the head of the blade into the soil, maintaining his equilibrium until the pain subsided.

_Come on! Damn it! Don't give up on me!_

Seconds had gone by in an instant. Never in Roland's life had he felt such discomfort. His vision became blurry, vertigo starting to set in, and he was about to vomit through dry heaves. Regardless, he didn't let himself succumb and remained stable, lifting his sword again, his weak hands shaking as his nerves returned.

The boar charged again, making another attempt on the young man's life. Roland sprinted towards the monster also. Turning the sword around, he leaped and drove the tip straight into the top of the boar's skull, albeit barely going all the way with a shallow left behind as Roland pulled out and got on its back. Strangely enough, the flaming tuffs did not burn him with his legs clinging on its sides. He got a hold of the creature's hair as the boar tried to shake him off, haphazardly kicking and squealing while blood gushed from its wound. It was the perfect opportunity to put an end to the madness, and Roland proceeded to stab his sword into its back repeatedly.

He could tell it was working as the boar began to lose its stance, struggling less and seemingly about to give out, but then made one last jolt. Its lower body whipped high with tremendous inertia. Roland flew into the air, and his body dragged onto the grass, bruises all over his body with his clothes getting even more filthy. His eyes grew wide, realizing his sword had fallen out of his hand.

Roland had to act fast. The fate of the town now rested on his hands, and this monstrous boar seemed relentless. He turned and had a moment to see the village, possibly for the last time. Roland thought it was time to end it finally, but he wasn't sure if he was going to survive. The sword didn't fall too far, and he was quick enough to retrieve it before his opponent came to its senses.

The boar pulled itself together and remained still for a couple of seconds. Roland walked up with White Fang held at his side and glared daggers, rage coursed through his body for the creature that destroyed his home, and he aimed for the same wound he left earlier. However, it seemed that Roland played right into its trap. Right when he was about to strike, the boar swung his tusk and knocked him off his feet. The sharp end stabbed into his thigh, and he screamed so loud his throat started to hurt. It seemed to enjoy toying with its prey, letting the blood trickle as it dug through the skin, threatening to pierce the bone and snap it in two. If it wanted him dead, it could have done it before.

It was unbearable. Roland couldn't take much more of it. That's when another opportunity was presented to him — dragging White Fang over the boar's head, not to strike him with the blade but to slam the back of the broadsword like a hammer. He hit three times, plunging the broken handle further in its eye, and he didn't stop until it was in its skull. Removing its tusk from his leg, the infernal boar stumbled away and collapsed. Its roar expelled its last breath remained as its body became lifeless.

Despite the excruciating twinge, Roland sat up and breathed heavily with his hand pressed against the wound to stop the bleeding. The rush was intense as his mind raced, and his body ached all over. The rain had begun descending overhead. A clear sign from heaven that the nightmare was over. Its' cold embrace beating down on Roland's body as his eyes closed and refused to open, hitting his face as the droplets covered his tears. His body barely responsive, and any attempt to move a muscle burned with pain. Escaping from his lips was not a scream of agony, but a drone of laughter to hide his discomfort.

He heard the villagers ran over to him up, the sound of thankful cheers echoed in his ears as he felt hands grabbing every part of his body. With the boar no longer alive, the flames dissipated from the rain with smoke smoldered out of the buildings. If the village became ash, then the villagers would abandon it and everyone evacuated to somewhere else, though that did not happen as half of the town remained intact. The villagers carried him off to Amber Hills, and a familiar touch was placed tenderly on the arm as Roland heard crying.

"It's going to be okay, Roland! Just hold on!" The sound of Josephine's voice brought him much comfort. "Please, stay with me, and we'll make sure you'll be as good as new!"

His strength slipped away, and his consciousness slipped into the dark.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He snapped his eyes open, beads of sweat dripping down from his face. The image of fire and pigs plagued his dreams. Fear suffocating his very being before calming down to the realization that Roland was in no peril. Not anymore. The monster was dead, and he killed it. However, the boar's horrifying face was forever ingrained in his thoughts, along with its blood staining his hands.

Roland was in a soft bed. He felt his sheets tucked tightly over his body and kept him warm during such a chilly night. Roland winced and seethed. The intolerableness of his battered body was as bad as the blurriness of his vision, but after a moment, it gradually subsided. Taking a deep breath, he looked around, finding himself in a small yurt, no bigger than his room. A large hole cut on the ceiling, allowing the moon's light to shine through. He saw that it was still nighttime, which made him wonder how long he had been out? The view of the moon shined through, illuminating the room as Roland saw he wasn't alone.

He turned to the side and blinked several times for his blurred vision to return. Roland saw Josephine sitting on a stool as she kept him company.

"Roland. Thank god. You're awake," said Josephine. "I almost thought the worse, you jerk!"

She swatted the front of her hand. Slap! Roland flinched and rubbed his face as a handprint appeared on the right side of his cheek. Josephine was angry, but Roland deserved her ire for what he put her through. He felt so ashamed, and he waited for her to yell at him some more.

He darted his eyes away and then back again. Josephine’s eyes were puffy, showing how much tears she cried for a long time, but all of it was worth it as she smiled and hugged him tightly. Her face planted against his neck, and Roland returned the gesture. With her face so close, he wasn't aware of her dimples on either side of her mouth, which was seemingly unnoticeable on her caramel skin.

"I'm so glad that you're okay," Josephine hiccupped a little. "You've been out for hours. We managed to put this tent up so that you could get some rest. Nothing too short for the village's hero."

"Your father. Is he alright?" Roland asked, albeit with a cough.

Josephine grabbed a glass of water from under her seat, bringing it to his lips as he drank it down. She had it just in case he woke up. Putting the empty glass down, she waved her hand nonchalant.

"Don't worry. My father is resting back home at the cabin." She stated. "He's tough, and he'll be able to bounce back from a simple boar attack. Also, you know how stubborn he is and would rather treat himself than have others do it for him."

"And what of the boar? Is it dead? Did I finally kill it?"

Josephine's smile wilted into a frown. Judging from her expression, she wanted to forget the whole ordeal. However, she knew it was essential, and after taking a deep breath, she nodded with brows arisen sincerely.

"It is. However, you might want to see it for yourself."

She pulled the sheets away and then helped Roland up. Josephine looked away, remembering that he was wearing nothing but his undergarments and the bandages covering his upper torso, her cheeks flustered but still lifted him by the underarm. He staggered a little. The wound on his leg, although stitched up and mended in a gauze, was beginning to flare as Roland limped over to the exit.

"Don't worry, Roland. I got you," said Josephine. He was grateful for it. His body felt weak, and even though he attempted to try maintaining his balance, he couldn't trust himself not to fall to the floor.

"Thank you," he said.

After he got himself dressed, Josephine brought him outside, and Roland's face fell at the sight that the party had resumed, despite the nightmarish ordeal they all endured. As he got closer, he could feel the somber atmosphere. It was more of a wake than a party, to be exact. The people's expressions dulled, and there was barely a grin on their faces. A feeling of dread he felt with all of them. On the edge of the field, a large tarp placed on the grass — ten bodies laid on the fabrics. Their faces covered, as many of the villagers walked up to pay their respects. In the morning, after digging the plots, the largest funeral the village had ever seen will begin. Not only that, but he had learned Alderman Stavros had also passed, which meant they would have to get preparations together to elect a replacement. Roland spotted two men sitting on a bench, surrounded by four men holding blunt instruments as they acted like prison guards, rarely taking their eyes off them.

“If you're wondering why those two are sitting out in the open, it's because those two caused the boar to show up," she explained.

Roland glanced at Josephine and grimaced.

"They brought the boar?" he repeated. "How?"

"Before my father headed home to recover, he overheard Warren and Paul talking about dumping food south of the forest," said Josephine. "the creature followed them back to the village, looking for more food."

Warren and Paul had a history of causing some trouble for the village, but it wasn't anything too serious. Whether it was fixing prices at the market or using hairbrained means of growing their crops, Roland heard from his parents that the Sventura brothers caused more migraines than destruction. However, their latest idiotic stunt put Amber Hills in danger, and Roland's face contorted in anger, wanting to beat them until their black and blue. Luckily, he fought back the urge to make the situation worse and calmly sighed.

_You reap what you sow…_

"What's going to happen to them?" Roland asked.

"With any luck, they'll either be forced to pay for the restitution or be exiled from the community. Whichever way it goes, those two deserve it." Josephine scowled as she changed direction. "Come on. Let's keep moving. You wanted me to show you the boar, so I'm going to show you."

She guided Roland to the villagers. They had removed the tusks but still had trouble dividing it up amongst them, not just for the diamonds but for the ivory as well. Many of the tools they used broke, barely cracking the outer shell. Gems like those would be worth a fortune. Not at all astonishing. With that amount of wealth, the people of Amber Hills would not only rebuild their local homes and businesses, but they could even renovate the village into a new city.

As for the boar, itself, the villagers wouldn't pass up substantial pork. In the middle of the party, where the wooden stage used to be, a giant bonfire was built — made in haste, and from the wood and stone left behind in the wreckage, a massive fire burned with the boar's carcass already skinned and roasted on a spit. A victorious feast already prepared. Roland's stomach grumbled, his mouth-watering from the scent. He hadn't eaten anything all day and wanted a taste of the creature he killed.

"Well, it's about time you woke up." Roland snapped and saw his father and mother walking up to him. Baldur tussled his son's hair and laughed. "I knew you would pull through. Not even the Harbinger of Crows could take my son to the afterlife."

Beatrice hugged her son but made sure to be gentle. "Don't mind your father," she remarked. "Before you woke up, he was crying and praying for you to get better."

Baldur, his face as red as a tomato, lowered his head to hide his embarrassed expression. The fact that his wife found amusement in his fluster seemed to legitimize her statement. Roland and Josephine chuckled but ceased when he glared at the two.

"Alright. Let's have enough of that. We got a lot of people waiting for us and it for Amber Hills if they didn't get the chance to thank their hero," Baldur rolled his eyes. "Also, may I remind you we still have a speech to give?" He gestured and led the way to the victory party.

Roland hobbled, awkwardly hiding the winces on his face as Josephine led him to the large crowd. The people who were still present began to cheer once they saw the four of them coming their way as they approached Roland, praising him, and patting him on the back, though they seemed to be oblivious to the agonizing groans Roland made from their touches. Some of the farmers even asked him if he would like to marry their daughters to which he gratefully declined. Josephine's cheeks puffed up, clearly growing annoyed, and Roland couldn't keep a tiny smile from finding the hilarity, which provoked her from almost dropping Roland before catching him to teach him a lesson.

A fiddler played to ease the tension in the air and fill the void of the absent band. Even though they endured a lot, the villagers didn't let that ruin their fun with some coupling and dancing. Roland tapped his foot to the beat while he and his family enjoyed the meal. The roasted boar tasted as heavenly as it smelled. Roland was already full, but he still went back for more, washing it all down with a mug of ale that remained in the kegs.

When the feast was over, and all the villagers stood up and turned to the bonfire, Baldur brought his son up, and they faced the crowd. Baldur looked at the speech he prepared. He had worked all day, and it took up most of the parchment, though with some words crossed and rewritten after the whole ordeal. Clearing his throat, Baldur spoke up as loud as possible for everyone to hear.

"I would like to thank you all for coming to this momentous occasion! As you all know, my son—Roland Mors—has just turned twenty, and by the rules of the village, he has officially become a man! I'm proud of how my son has come so far, and it's clear the future has so much in store for him." His eager expression faltered. Baldur looked at all of their dark frowns, and his face matched their own.

He continued, albeit a little off-script. "However, what we've experienced will not go unnoticed! We have lost so many people in a night, along with our village now being leaderless! Nevertheless, if it weren't for the bravery of our militia, and my son standing up to that demon pig, none of us would be here celebrating and looking forward to another day!"

Taking hold of his son's hand, Baldur raised it to the heavens. The villagers cheered and applauded, and Roland felt a strong sense of appreciation as he basked in the attention. Unexpectedly, Baldur placed a hand on his son's shoulder and lurched behind his ear.

"By the way, son. After this, we need a serious talk about the subject at hand," Baldur frowned, his expression matching the tone of his voice.

Roland gulped and nodded.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"I don't understand what the big deal is, father? If I hadn't disobeyed you, more people could have died," stated Roland. "Can't you just let it go?"

The party had ended. With dawn almost coming in a couple of hours, everyone headed home to get what little sleep, though that would be impossible with the ordeal they endured. When Roland and his family returned to the bakery, they sat down and talked for about thirty minutes, listening to their son as he defended himself. His apron hung up, Baldur pinched the bridge of his nose, trying his best to keep his temper leveled as he spoke sternly to his son.

"You disobeyed me, and I can't let that go. I asked you to throw that sword away, and you didn't." Baldur stated. "Instead, you used it to fight a monster and almost got yourself killed." He narrowed his brow and crossed his arms, acting as authoritative as possible, but his concern still showed in his tone.

"Please, Roland. Your father just doesn't want to see you hurt again," Beatrice interjected. "That's what we both want."

She sat next to Roland, maintaining a gentle demeanor as she cracked a weak smile, and rested a hand on her son's shoulder. Beatrice was already dressed for bed, wearing a teal nightgown, and having her raven hair pulled back, but she stayed up to be a peacemaker. Like father like son, Beatrice knew they were both stubborn, and with her in the room, the argument could end posthaste and not escalate into an all-night debate.

"You don't know how to fight or use the sword." Baldur pointed out while gesturing his hands in emphasis. "Sure, you saved the village, but you were lucky. If something like that ever happened again, you might not be so lucky."

"Then I'll get better with training," Roland defensively stated. "If another threat like the boar happens again, I'll be ready with a sword in hand."

"After everything that has happened, you still think you can handle such feats?" Baldur questioned with his voice slightly stringent. "My god, son. Just look at what happened to your leg. When we walked through the front door, you could barely move in a straight line. What if you face something that would be the death of you? what then?"

All these grim scenarios he forced upon Roland, and his son became even more aggravated, giving his father a dull glare.

"What's your point, father?" he asked.

"My point is you're not a fighter, Roland, but a baker. People like us aren't cut out for the life of an adventurer," Baldur clarified, his fingers tapping against each other to gesture a tent. "There are creatures and situations much worse out there, and villagers like us never stand a chance. Only professionals should handle it."

"That's complete bullshit!" Roland snapped. He slammed his hands against the table, taking his parents aback for such gestures and using such language. "Grandfather was a villager, wasn't he? He proved the odds, and it made him into a legend!"

"And look where it's got him! Abandoning his family to go on near-suicidal escapades while those close to him have to clean up his messes!" Baldur yelled back. His nostrils flaring while his patience ran thin. "If you faced half of the things my father faced daily, you would end up dead in a ditch with everything on your persons stolen and sold by bandits!"

Roland had enough and nearly jumped from his seat, wanting to tell his father that he was wrong to think the worst. Unfortunately, he couldn't. Right when his leg acted up, Roland sat down and gently massaged the wound. Baldur took notice, and he glared daggers, that is, until Beatrice stepped and clapped loudly to get their attention.

"~Okay! I think we got everything out of our system, but since it's already getting late, maybe we should get some rest," she suggested. "That way, we can get our heads cooled, and then forget about this whole argument and start a new day. What do you say?"

Roland carefully sat up as much as he could. He didn't need his mother telling him to drop it, already starting to see it was getting heated. Grabbing his scabbard, he headed upstairs to his room, moving as slow as possible without upsetting his stitches. After their Roland left, Beatrice turned to her husband and comforted him once more, holding his head to her stomach as she whispered soft words in his ear.

Baldur sighed. He saw more of his grandfather than himself, stubborn and rebellious. Still, despite already becoming an adult, Roland was young and had a lot of growing to do. A single thought then echoed in his head.

_What am I going to do with that boy?_

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Walking into his room, Roland closed the door behind him and made sure it was locked. He sauntered to his dresser, but it wasn't to get ready and go to bed. Instead, he grabbed all of his shirts and trousers, tied them together to fashion a rope, and threw them out the window with the end attached to the foot of the bed.

Out from under his mattress, Roland pulled out a small pouch. His father always taught him a long time ago that to get anything in life, when earning a living, a man must save as much money without wasting it frivolously. Roland jingled the leather bag and hearing its contents before stuffing it into his pockets. Repeatedly, Roland had thoughts of leaving the village and start a new life in the city, saving up enough money to go, but he never could do that to his family and friends.

Roland never dared to make such a drastic decision before. That all changed as he made his next step before throwing a sheet of paper onto his bed.

Without making any noise, he climbed out of the window, which was proven quite harder than it looked. His hand slipped, and he nearly fell but was quick to snatch the makeshift rope, beads of nervous sweat falling from his brow while resisting the urge to look down.

_That was close! One wrong move and I might not be able to see morning again!_ He was dangling above the bakery, the display window in front of him. his parents were still inside, though they seemed to have not noticed him. Nonetheless, he took his chances and let go. Half of his clothes simultaneously unknotted and then fell with him.

When Roland reached the ground, he jumped off and landed on his feet, wreathing in agony as he gripped his thigh. Covering his mouth while muffled screams erupted, but it failed to escape from his sleeve. He limped away from the shop and made his way to the end of the village. At around this time, close to morning, supply wagons from Crown City would arrive in Amber Hills, collecting the harvested wheat and fruit before returning to the marketplace.

Roland spotted large sacks resting beside the dirt road, the farmers having stuffed to the brim and left behind them to get picked up. The wagon pulled up at the entranceway, and the driver tossed the supplies into the back, making sure the sacks were not damaged as he stacked them in place. This was his only chance, but Roland couldn't leave without bringing one last thing. He traveled to the other side of Amber Hills, approaching a small log cabin, and knocked on the front door as a tired Josephine greeted him.

"Roland? What are you doing here?" she questioned.

"I'm leaving the village, Josephine, and I want you to come with me," Roland stated.

Josephine was fully awake after hearing that, and her jaw nearly dropped. Shaking her head, she gave him a flabbergasted expression. At first, Josephine thought her hearing wasn't correct, and that her sleep deprivation made her not focus straight. So, she asked him again but leered in to listen carefully.

"I'm sorry. What did you say?"

"I said, I'm leaving the village, and I want you to come with me, Josephine," Roland repeated. "I'm planning on heading to Crown City, and then start my dream of becoming an adventurer just like what we talked about."

She could not believe what he was saying. To leave behind everything in the village was quite mind-boggling, and even though Roland and Josephine had talked about it, she wasn't sure if she could go through with it.

"I don't know, Roland," said Josephine. "What about our parents? How can we leave without telling them?"

"Even if we tell them, they would not approve," Roland pointed out. "I left a note for them, and I have no intention of looking back. So, what do you say?" He reached his hand out, expecting her to grab it.

Josephine hesitated for a moment, but she complied as Roland led her to the supply wagon, praying that it was still at the front entrance of the village. He assured her that she didn't need to pack anything, convincing her that they'll purchase some new wares once they reach their destination.

Just his luck. The wagon driver did not leave yet, still tossing some of the remaining sacks into the back. Roland stopped him and asked if he and Josephine could have a ride to which the driver agreed, but for a price. A few pence exchanged, and their journey proceeded as the driver ordered the horse to pull and trot onward. Lying on the hardwood floor of the wagon, they both couldn't believe it. They looked and saw the village of Amber Hills moving away in the distance as the feeling of home gradually withered. Everything was coming up alright for the two, and it will get better once they make it to Crown City. Roland was motivated to sign up at the Adventurer's Guild, and Josephine set her sights for the Woodcutter's Guild.

As for the aspiring adventurer, he just hoped that once his family sees his note, they will understand why he left, and he wished that, one day, they might forgive him. Unbeknownst to the two, more tribulations were about to arise as their destiny awaited.


	4. Book 1: Chapter 4

Roland drowsily opened his brown eyes, and he was starting to remember where he was. His back ached, feeling like he spent the whole restless night sleeping on something hard as he noticed Josephine lying on top of him before looking around. It was a beautiful morning as the afternoon sun rose overhead, and the clouds faded, having only a few remaining in the illuminating twilight. The tall grass around the rolling plains swayed slightly, birds flying passed while singing merrily over the canopies, and Roland hated every minute of it.

"Will you shut up!" Roland shouted. He shook his fist in the air and then received a punch to the gut. "What was that for, Josephine?"

"To get YOU to shut up, Roland!" Josephine begrudgingly stated. "Honestly, it's hard to sleep with you yelling like a maniac."

_I'm also beginning to think that wood carving was a wrong birthday gift to give you._

She leaned up and rubbed her blue eyes, her platinum blonde hair let loose and fell in long and messing streaks, some of her bangs falling onto her face. After fixing her hair and tying it back, Josephine shifted her glower to Roland, who shared the same stare while still rubbing his stomach.

"You could have tried a more subtle approach!"

"Would you have listened?" Josephine retorted. "Besides, I don't know how long I can take it. we've been riding for hours, and I can't wait to get out and stretch." She stretched and rubbed her joints, seething as her joints popped.

They were sleeping comfortably, their bodies once coddling up together while sharing each other's warmth before receiving their rude awakening. Unfortunately, what little sleep they could get was constantly interrupted, feeling the wagon rattling all around them as it passed over a bumpy patch of dirt. The sacks knocked over and made it even more excruciating while the cold morning breeze made them shiver throughout the remaining night. Roland's neck was stiff, and bags had formed under his eyes, emphasizing his exhaustion as Josephine had the same predicament.

"I feel your pain, Josephine, but we might not be arriving in Crown City for another hour, or so. We're just going to have to put up with this bumpy ride a little longer," Roland remarked. "Traveling wasn't going to be cheap, especially with the budget we have at the moment."

_With any luck, once we reached the city, things might come up our way._

Josephine snuggled up against Roland, resting her head against his chest as he held her tightly. His hand gradually groped her small round ass, which she did not protest and blushed with an affectionate smile while reciprocating the gesture.

"Well, once we reach Crown City, it's going to be smooth sailings and a comfy bed to sleep on," Josephine mused. A sense of optimism hinted in her tone, which shifted into friskiness as she grinned lecherously. "Maybe, we could have a little fun to celebrate our arrival. What do you think?"

Her hand caressed against his crotch as Roland blushed and nodded. That quickly ended when doubt started to manifest in his mind, having a sullen demeanor painted on his face.

In a place like Crown City, it was possibly unlikely there would be lodgings that cheap, having luxurious and extravagant tourists coming through and settling in. Still, Roland and Josephine could at least try to find one lodge that could take them in until they could make some money, currently in the red and needed to fix that fast. Nevertheless, they still had some hope and that the city had all sorts of possibilities. Fortunately for them, that could happen right away, being that they were coming closer than they thought as shade blanketed over them.

Crawling over to the front, Roland and Josephine crouched up to get a better look, becoming in awe by the large, solid white walls in the distance. Both of their eyes growing wide with nostalgia taking over.

"So that's Crown City, huh? I've heard stories about it but, seeing it in person, it's even more breathtaking," said Roland.

Sitting back down, he trailed his hand across his short black hair, caressing fingers through the tips while taking a deep breath as Josephine quickly lowered her head and told him to get down while pulling the sacks over them. None of them had any papers to enter the city and had to make sure the city guards don't spot them. The wagon came to a halt with the city guards stopping him to check the driver's papers. Once everything was in order, they gave him their approval, and he proceeded through. Arriving into the city, Josephine got off first and started stretching while Roland walked over to pay the driver extra.

"Alright! Let's do this!" He raised his fist and smirked. Taking Josephine by the hand, Roland led her into the city, dashing like excited children as they wasted no time seeing the inside of the kingdom's capital.

However, Roland's excitement quickly faded as he turned back. He stared out at the gate and sighed.

"Something the matter?" Josephine asked.

She shared the same look and approached him.

"Do you think our parents will still be angry at what we've done?" Roland wondered, not taking his eyes away. "I decided to leave and to take you with me, but they might not see it that way. If my parents don't kill me, then your father will surely do the job."

Josephine patted him on the back. Standing on her toes, she kissed him on the cheek to assure him that everything was going to be alright.

"It's going to be alright, Roland. I 'm the one who decided to go with you, not you, and in time they'll forgive you," she said. "Besides, if my father even attempts to take your head with his ax, I'll be sure to protect you while giving him a piece of my mind. If you know what I mean?"

She held up her hand and clenched it before Roland. He chuckled as Josephine comically puff her cheeks to appear more serious. He could always count on her having his back, though fighting her father might be going a bit too far (and scary). The thought of Solomon taking his head brought shivers down his spine as he rubbed his neck disconcertingly.

_That could never happen. Right?_

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A roar erupted within Amber Hills, and it wasn't another animal attack. After finding that his daughter went missing, Solomon ran to the Mors family's bakery, hoping that she was there with Roland. He passed by many of the construction while ignoring the pungent smell coming from the charred debris. When he walked into the store, he found Baldur and Beatrice leaving the store unattended as they sat in a daze, slumping within their seats in the center of the room. No costumers and no fresh pastries. They hadn't opened the shop yet, and they do not plan to do so for the whole day. He sat down with them, and the Mors family told him everything as fiery rage seethed in his eyes.

"I'm going to kill that boy!"

Solomon impulsively jumped out of his seat. Drawing out his ax, he raised it up and slammed the blade into one of the tables behind him. The sheer force of one swing was enough to sever it in two.

"Solomon! Please! Calm yourself!"

Beatrice begged in a passive voice while waving her hands.

"He took my daughter in the middle of the night, and now they are off gallivanting to god-knows-where!" Solomon gritted his teeth, pointing his ax to the window while scaring his friends. "I want him dead, and I want my daughter back!"

"My son didn't take your daughter by force. She went with him!"

"But he coerced her to go with him."

They argued back and forth, but it was no use. Solomon wanted blood and was ready to strike his ax down once more.

"Look. I understand your pain, but destroying our furniture isn't going to change anything. Both our children are gone and ran away to Crown City, and they won't come back for a while," she explained rationally, but fury soon appeared in her glare. "Besides, if you ever dare kill my son, then I will make sure you rue the day, Solomon."

Beatrice grabbed his arm as Solomon immediately stopped. Looking into her eyes and seeing her tears made him come to his senses. He took a deep breath, and he returned to his seat.

"I'm…I'm so sorry, Beatrice. I didn't mean to cause you any trouble," said Solomon earnestly. His anger diminishing, and his body slouched in response.

Beatrice nodded and steadied her heart. "It's okay. Worrying about your child is the number one priority for any parent," she stated. "That truly shows how much of a good father you are."

"I'm glad you aren't appalled from my outburst," Solomon smiled weakly, which quickly changed back into a scowl. "Still. Your son has a lot of gull for what he has done, and if I ever see him again…" his glower shifted to his ax.

"Which is why, as his mother, I will make sure that my son will atone for all that he has done," Beatrice remarked. "Isn't that right, dear?"

She turned to her husband and waited for him to speak up. Unfortunately, he didn't say anything. Instead, he remained in his seat, wrapping his arms around his head with dispirited eyes. He stood up in an unenthusiastic manner.

"Could you please excuse me for a moment," said Baldur, having a tone that matched his expression.

Beatrice and Solomon stared worriedly and watched him stagger out to the back. The two noticed the sheet of paper sticking out of his back pocket as Baldur failed to discreetly hide it from their view.

Once he was alone in the dark corners of the hallway, Baldur could be with his thoughts. He pulled out the sheet and read it again. His brows furrowing while his eyes painfully skimmed at the words.

_Dear mother and father,_

_If you are reading this, then it means you know I am long gone. I have taken Josephine, and we are moving to Crown City to achieve our dreams. I just want you to know that I am not doing this out of spite, but because after the ordeal last night, I realized that I cannot remain in a small village forever. There is a whole world out there that I want to see, and I believe there is more for me than there is in Amber Hills. I hope that, once I return home, you will understand my choices._

_Roland Mors._

Baldur trailed his hand against his sullen face before punching his fist against the wall, leaving a small hole behind as he leered his shoulder to provide him some leverage. This wasn't the first time his son ran away. Baldur remembered when Roland was ten, he left because he wanted to be with his friends and not clean up around the bakery, but he won't find his rebellious son hiding in the storage room with the bags of flour and salt. His only son was gone, and it was too much for Baldur to bare. Tears fell from his eyes. a vulnerable sight, he refused to show his wife and his friend.

_Are you happy, father? You finally found a successor to your legacy._

Baldur chuckled but stopped after a few seconds. It was easy to blame his father, but he could only blame himself. Everything he said to his son had driven Roland away, and Baldur wished he could take him back. Sadly, he cannot.

_You can't take back things you already said. All you can do is hope that things fix themselves, naturally._

However, despite being angry at his son, he couldn't help but smile with elation as Roland had the guts to make such a bold move to run away with his girl to find true happiness. It was strange, but he was proud. All he could do was support his son and his girlfriend (still, not wanting to be a grandfather too early).

He raised his fists and shouted to the heavens, "Son! I hope you make it big in Crown City and be the greatest adventurer the world has ever seen! If you ever return to Amber Hills, there's going to be a loving home and a good punch to the face waiting for you."

He turned back and saw Beatrice and Solomon standing behind him. They came to check up on him, flabbergasted by his outburst. Baldur raised an eyebrow, oblivious of their gazes.

"What?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Roland sneezed out of nowhere, feeling as if someone was talking about him. Josephine stepped back while avoiding his range before approaching him.

"Are you okay? You're not getting sick on me, are you?"

Wiping his nose against his sleep, Roland waved his hand reassuringly. "I'm fine. It's just the wind, I guess."

He then took the lead and pressed onward. He continued, "I'm not getting sick before seeing the city. So, let's go." Josephine nodded and caught up to him.

They roamed through the city with some cheer in their step, taking in everything around them. In the countryside, no one had ever traveled to the cities without special clearance—papers to grant them access. Whenever caravans from the city arrived, most of the villagers had been tasked to load up the wagons and go about their day. None of them ever got to see the splendor of city life as many citizens of the Aestraian Kingdom are required to have passports given to them from local authorities to which cost more than a villager could afford.

Roland and Josephine, on the other hand, were an exception. However, they'll have to figure a way out of that predicament. In the meantime, the city was there's to explore. Strolling on the sidewalk, they stared at his newfound surroundings, becoming enamored by the buildings around them. Originally an outpost for the first settlement in Sage's southern region, Crown City immediately grew into both a formidable fortress and the capital of Aestraia. It comprised of tall buildings with the tallest being around 3-stories made of brick and mortar with redwood roofs. Some of them clung to the sides of the walls.

They passed by a couple of shops that sold fantastic foods and fashion, the sight making them feel insecure about their wardrobe. Out of all of the people around them, wearing finely tailored suits and dresses, Roland and Josephine stood out the most with their shabby garbs. Another issue they needed to deal with later on. With what little money they had left, they had to be smart.

"So, any ideas on where we're going to find a place to stay?" Josephine asked. Her hands behind her head, she walked casually alongside Roland.

"Not sure. We'll have to look around until we find a place with a sign that says, 'cheap rent,'" said Roland as he started walking ahead. "Who knows? We might get lucky and find a place that could take us in. How hard could it be?"

It was quite hard for them, indeed. Every street corner and district they turned, and every lodging they stumbled upon, none of them had what Roland and Josephine were looking for as the price was too steep. Two hours went by, and the two had seemingly given up as they lumbered around in enervation, having already made their way to the eastern district of the city. The buildings had gradually changed into a less lustrous exterior while the room was more unkempt.

"Well, that's it. That's every inn and flat in the whole city," Josephine stated. "So, what are we going to do now?"

Roland shrugged and stopped in his tracks. "Let's rest our feet for a moment and then continue looking." He leaned against the wall of a wooden house, taking a deep breath while briefly closing his eyes. A small yellow cat strolled up, brushing its fur against his legs as knelt to pet under its chin.

"Are you sure we should keep looking?" she asked, doubtingly. "We have been to almost every part of the city, and we have come up short. At this point, we should just sleep on a pile of hay." The cat came up to her, but she shooed it away as she was not in the mood.

Roland shook his head.

"We're not going to do that," he stated, dismissively. "We have to keep searching, and we might get lucky. Who knows? Chances are there might be someplace that could take us in."

As if on cue, a scream heard from above. Roland and Josephine looked up and were shocked to see something falling overhead.

"Look out!" A vigorous yet feminine voice shouted.

Smack! Roland couldn't see anything. His view shrouded in darkness and a

heavyweight keeping him pinned to the ground on top of him. A slight sense of fear started creping as Roland anxiously tried to make sense of what's going on, along with a minor irritation in the back of his head.

_What the hell is this? Why is everything so dark? What's on top of me and…what smells like lilies?_

"Uh…Roland?"

He heard Josephine's voice and was relieved that it was close. Roland called for help. Unfortunately, there were no words but a muffled sound. He struggled to breathe, unable to get up while his body fidgeted, and his hands started to wave in desperation. His face crushed by a soft and warm press, similar to a pillow, but completely different as it pried off with Josephine hovered over him.

"Get off of him!" she roared.

Coming to from her nasty fall, the young woman looked down and locked eyes at the young man who broke her fall, a red hue appearing on her cheeks. Due to her nearness, Roland got at the stranger who supposedly fell from the sky.

After getting back up and standing before the two, they were amazed at how short she was and assumed she was around 5'1 in height, though shorter than Josephine by an inch. Her face was round without being chubby, with peach-toned skin, with a tantalizing cleft to her chin. Her long red hair ended at her back, and her eyes were almost a vibrant shade of green.

From top to bottom, she had an athletic build to which complemented her womanly curves. From what Roland can see, she wore a brown leather bodice that exposed her cleavage that was impressively large for her stature, matching shorts bound by laces at the side, and a pair of steel-toed boots that stopped at her knees.

She brushed the dust off of herself and bowed politely at Roland. His eyes directly to her bosom, which was quite eye-catching but immediately averted his gaze before she noticed. Josephine took notice and was not too happy about it.

"I am terribly sorry, sir. I did not mean to land on you," said the young woman. "It was all an accident, and I slipped while working on the roof."

Roland lifted his hands and smile. Beads of sweat fell from his brow, not use to receiving such gallantry. It was mostly his fault since he was at the wrong place at the wrong time, and he thought he should be the one apologizing.

"No. That's okay. You don't have to be sorry for anything," Roland replied. "But maybe you could help us out. My friend and I are looking for lodging. We don't have much and were wondering if you know a place that could take us in."

"I think I might know the perfect place." She nodded to the building behind them. An opportunistic grin replaced her troubled frown.

It was a small shack that stood one-story tall, having a large chimney made entirely of steel. On the top, red clay tiles covered the whole roof, which had withered and chipped over time. Roland and Josephine looked up, noticing the wooden anvil sign that hung overhead.

It read: "Wayland's Forge."

"My father has been trying to get tenets to rent our upstairs room, but everyone he interviewed did not fit the bill," she continued. "If you have enough money and if my father likes you, then he might let you stay."

_A blacksmith's house was better than nothing._

Roland went along with it casually, but Josephine could almost jump for joy. All of their efforts had finally paid off and walked in as the young woman let them through the door, the wood scraping against the frame as it opened.

"I'm Brunhilda, by the way," she said. "Brunhilda Wayland."

Roland and Josephine smiled at her. Despite being the same age as them, they noticed that she had freckles on either side of her mouth, and they were the most prominent feature of her face.

They nodded and introduced themselves, as well.

"Roland Mors."

"Josephine Alder."

After closing the door behind her, she brought them straight to her father.

They walked through the surprisingly spacious hobble as Roland and Josephine darted their gaze at every corner of the room, taking note of the rustic interior that matched the exterior while sauntering into the living room.

Sitting in a rocking chair, an elderly dwarf with a short gray beard taking a nap while letting out a loud snore. It was the first time Roland and Josephine saw a dwarf, having heard of them only in stories told by the elders of Amber Hills. Brunhilda groaned and walked up to the old dwarf. Placing both hands on his right arm, she carefully shook him awake.

"Father. Wake up. We have guests," she said in a calm tone.

The old man ceased snoring and instantly opened his eyes. His head snapped rapidly in confusion. It took him a while to collect his bearings before turning to his daughter, and then to the newcomers.

"Hilda? What times is it?" he asked.

She rolled her eyes.

"It's 3:56, dad. You overslept," said Brunhilda. "Don't worry. We don't have any costumers today. I told them we had to close to do some repairs."

"And who are those two?" Asked her father. He pointed at Roland and Josephine, giving them a suspicious stare in their direction.

"Those are the two who wish to rent the upstairs room, dad. However, I told them that before we could give it to them, you have to interview them to see if they are suitable," she stated.

Roland and Josephine were bewildered by the two. Looking at Brunhilda, and then to her father, they both shared the same thought: _Those two can't possibly be related._

The old dwarf fixed his postured, letting out a cough while straightening as Brunhilda walked away and leaned against the wall, watching for the show to begin.

"So, you want to rent a room here, huh?" his demeanor became more fortified as Roland and Josephine nodded, noticing how he was shorter and stockier compared to his daughter. "Well, then. Let the examination begin." His tone made their skin crawl as intimidation made the two begin to have second thoughts.

"My name is Tor Wayland, and I will be your interviewer," he continued.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

For nearly an hour and a half, Roland and Josephine sat on a couch in the center of a large room. Tor asked them a lot of questions—questions such as where they came from, who they were, why the two were in Crown City, what their goals were, and other more probing things they quickly answered.

Tor stared at the two fiercely. His eyes narrowing intensely as Roland and Josephine had become more timorous with their nails digging in the cushions. He did not say anything after all of that and kept staring, making the two even more anxious.

Then he finally spoke with his tone as gruff while standing up. "Well, with everything I heard from you, I have finally made my decision," Roland and Josephine grew more agitated, watching Tor stood up from his chair and approached them. "Well then…welcome to your new home, you two!" his stern expression faded into a friendly smile as he reached out to shake both their hands.

Roland and Josephine were in disbelief, feeling like they were about to fall with their legs sticking in the air. They complied but remained baffled, both of them arching a brow while having blank expressions.

"I don't understand. How did we pass?" Josephine spoke up first. Her tone matched her disbelief. "I thought there would be more to it than just a few personal questions."

"Well, you both look like you're trustworthy and could pull your weight around here. That's all I am looking for in tenets," Tor admitted. "Honestly, you're a much better improvement to the last people I rented the upstairs rooms to."

"Don't worry. Excluding the clothes, the bed is already available, but I expect you all to make yourself," Tor added. "I'm not the maid, nor is my daughter."

He handed them the keys. They both blinked, and for an instant, their expression changed as they took it. Roland and Josephine left it at that, seeing no point into asking questions as Josephine wanted to go upstairs to see her new room and lay in her new bed. She was too tired to go to the Woodcutter's Guild, deciding to go tomorrow. If she wanted to be a city woodcutter, then she needed to be well-rested.

Josephine ran up, but Roland went into the other direction. She turned around, and her eyes grew wide as she looked at him puzzled.

"Where are you going?" asked Brunhilda. "Don't you want to come up and see the bedroom." Her tone becoming more suggestive but tried to hide it.

"I will," Roland stated. "But I need to do something, first."

Josephine didn't pry any further. She nodded and could tell what he was talking about, possibly written on his face. After assuring him good luck, she resumed climbing upstairs as Roland walked past Tor and his daughter as they bid him farewell.

It might have been his imagination, but he could have sworn Brunhilda winked at him, though he ignored it and made it out the door. Roland was still determined to register at the adventurer's guild before sleeping.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Going back outside, he ran through the streets of Crown City. Roland kept his eyes peeled as he made it to the central district.

_Well, Josephine isn't with me, but that's not slowing me down._ Roland looked up to see the sun already setting, and the moon beginning to rise. _Even if the day is almost over, I'll be able to get to the guild soon before it closes, and nothing can stop…oof!_

Without looking where he was going, Roland accidentally ran into someone, falling to the ground with a loud thud. Roland got up as he turned to see whom he ran in front of him. Sitting on the cobblestone road, and rubbing her backside, a woman in a dark blue cloak with gold accents glared daggers at the young man.

Roland tried to apologize, but she didn't listen and clicked her tongue with annoying frustration. Picking up her staff and books, the woman got back up on her matching stiletto-heeled boots, towering over them by an inch while keeping her face hidden under her hood. She twirled around and stormed off.

"Watch where you're going, you damn plebeian!" she cursed.

As the cloaked woman turned around the corner, Roland glared dagger at her, wanting to give her a gesture that matched her attitude. However, he brushed it off as he continued crossing the street. _Can't worry about rude bystanders. The best thing to do is just to keep moving and_ _get to the guild house_. _Besides, it's not like I'm going to meet her again._


	5. Book 1: Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, everyone. This is Kman134. I'm here with a new chapter. Just like chapter 2, this one is also raunchy and erotic, with Roland and Josephine getting kinky. This chapter also shows more of Crown City and its significant buildings, along with showing who the hooded woman is. It might be a bit heavy-handed, but I hope it's good. Please send a lot of reviews as you can.

Roland stared at the massive building in front of him. He had heard it was big, but even that was an exaggeration, by his estimate. The only time Roland turned away was when the young man glanced at the passerby's, going about their day while tending to the shops and markets in the district. He noticed the solid walls and columns, all of them constructed from white marble bricks, which would have made up the whole area if not for the tall, slender trees and shrubberies sticking out of the square-shaped holes. Roland turned his attention to the sign overhead. Adventurer's Guild hovered above and was written boldly in gold as Roland remembered the stories he heard as a child.

Initially starting as a small mercenary guild, it was a place hired by merchants and lords to protect their assets. In the Kingdom of Aestraia, where the main export was iron and wood, it was a profitable occupation if one had the right qualifications. If caravans needed protection, they sought out adventurers and pay them handsomely, but they were still treated harshly by the other guilds, considering them brutes absent of loyalty and honor.

However, according to legends, the Adventurer's Guild did not receive any proper recognition until the war against the Eldritch King. When the hero Leo of Telos (Whose statue stood in the city's square) recruited these mercenaries, and also allied with many kingdoms and races, to defeat such a significant evil, hundreds of years ago. Since then, many people throughout the lands have come to the guild. They register to become adventurers in hopes of making a name for themselves. As he gripped the leather strap of his sheath, Roland was determined to do the same.

"Well, it's now or never," he said to himself, confidently, though his body acted the complete opposite.

He froze, feeling nostalgia overtaking his senses as his legs remained still. He had waited for this very moment, but his nerves staggering made it difficult for him to take another step. Without Josephine to give him confidence, Roland had to provide himself with the push he needed.

 _Come on, Roland. This is what you have always wanted. Just shake off all of your inhibitions and keep moving forward_. He pursed his lips. Roland found the strength he needed and was ready to head inside.

He climbed up the steps and passed through the large red doors. After entering the big hall, and roaming through the red carpet, he became shocked by the crowd of rowdy adventurers gathering inside despite how late it was in the evening. It should have been nothing much of a surprise for the young man since the building consisted of a large hotel and a bar on the first floor, and a government office on the second floor. to be more precise, it was like three buildings merged into one. Thus, the incredibly lively atmosphere was nothing short of ordinary, but to Roland, it was like witnessing a festive party taking place before his eyes.

Sauntering over to the center, Roland examined the room around him with his brows narrowed. He was amazed to see a diverse range of people standing in the same place and socializing courteously with one another. Roland saw some humans wearing chainmail, some wearing robes and carrying staves, and others bound in leather and carrying daggers. Other than humans, he spotted some beastfolk and dwarves a little further away.

Roland squeezed through the gaps within the crowd, and he walked towards the receiving area. In front of him, a long queue formed at the front desk. His shoulders slumped and groaned as the line moved slowly. People had come to take up quests, make reports, or even make a request, which Roland assumed would be an easy process. Sadly, that wasn't the case.

To pass the time, Roland eavesdropped on the people behind him, listening to hearing the contents of their conversations discreetly at such a close-range.

"So? How was taking care of those orc raids in the frontier lands?"

"It did not go as well as I thought. With the battles taking place, the orcs have grown desperate in finding food. Because of that, I couldn't as much as I signed up for."

"That's not surprising. Ever since the Therian Empire started advancing, both the capital and the Adventurer's Guild have gotten their hands tied. It makes questing and hunting much more difficult."

"I also heard they cut payment for reparations."

"Must be because of the bandit attacks in the south, or that dragon attack in the east. Even our allies are having the same problem throughout the region, but you'd think they would give out larger rewards."

"Uh-huh. I heard that the archeology guild is posting requests, looking for bodyguards in dungeon exploration. I might have to give that a try, so long as the pay is good."

"I might sign up for that, also. Hopefully, the dungeon only has low-level monsters and not something too challenging. I'm still at ruby rank, after all…"

_Do they have to be so loud?_

Roland flinched irritably. His ears rang as the adventurers behind him laughed at the top of their lungs. Still, after hearing all that, it was more than he could imagine as he pictured such exploits in his mind.

He was aware that the occupation of an adventurer was not as easy as the rumors say, but from coming so far, that didn't deter him in the slightest. Holding the straps of his sword tightly, Roland steadied himself and pivoted forward while retaining his determined grin.

Roland assumed it would take longer, recalling him and his family spending hours waiting for the church sermon to end as the priest prattled on about the Great Sea, and the prophets. Fortunately, that was not the case. In a matter of minutes, the line started getting smaller and smaller. Roland waited patiently, and he was already next in line at the reception.

"Hello, there! What business do you have here today?!" the receptionist asked professionally.

She was a woman no older than twenty with a neat and tidy uniform that matched nicely with her red hair and brown eyes. The name Angela plastered on the tag hanging on her chest. Having a gentle expression on her face, Roland could tell that she was well adjusted to her occupation, remaining unfazed by such a loud and rowdy line.

Roland gathered his thoughts, and he spoke.

"I…I want to register to become an adventure."

"…I see."

An indescribable look appeared on Angela's face for a brief moment. Her gaze examined Roland from head to toe as if evaluating the young man. Roland lowered his head timidly.

 _Oh God, why is she staring at me like that? Is this some sort of test to see if I'm qualified?_ His insecurities resurfaced with beads of sweat falling from his brow. Swallowing the lump in his throat, Roland shook off his inhibitions and straightened his posture.

Angela put on a professional smile to smooth over the awkwardness while returning eye-contact. She reached under her desk and pulled out a sheet of brown parchment and a pen as Roland took them from her hands

"Alright then!" Angela Chirped. "As long as you can read and write, then all you have to do is fill out this information sheet. If you have any questions or if there is something on the sheet you don't understand, then don't be afraid to ask."

That had gone better than Roland had expected. He then proceeded to fill in the blanks. "Name: Roland Mors. Age: 20. Sex: Male. Class: Warrior. Race: Human…"

It was tedious but worth the effort. However, the last box troubled Roland. Swallowing the lump in his throat, his hand shook as he hovered the pen over the front. It was to list what sort of achievement he had accomplished, but Roland hesitated to write it in as illusions of the infernal boar appeared before his gaze, conflicted over whether to put it down or not. After shaking off the dreadful weight over his shoulders, he eventually inscribed every gory and earnest detail during an ornery constraint in his chest.

Once Roland was finished, he handed the sheet and pen back to the receptionist, though with his face contorted. Angela took notice and frowned.

"Are you alright, sir?" she asked. "Do you need any help?"

Roland waved dismissively and flashed a weak smile.

"No. No. It's okay. I do not wish to trouble you with any of my problems," Roland tensely replied. The receptionist nodded and took the sheet.

Roland watched her open a small golden box on her right side as she placed the registration form inside. After closing the top, Angela pressed a red button on the front while a low white light flashed for a second. Out from the slot underneath, a card appeared, and Angela carefully blows the steam away before presenting it.

Roland received the card and analyzed it. Made out of porcelain, it had everything about him engraved on the front. A sense of amazement washed over Roland's body, but he snapped out of it when the receptionist spoke.

"Congratulations. You are officially an adventurer. That card is your skill appraisal, as well as your identity tag," Angela stated. "Unfortunately, since you are a beginner, you will have to start at porcelain rank."

"Porcelain rank?"

"You see, each adventure has a specific rank that determines seniority and experience. The highest rank is platinum, then gold, then silver. All newly applied adventurers must start at porcelain rank before they can rise above the ranks."

Roland got the gist of it all. He understood that he had to start at the bottom before he could become an experienced adventurer. Also, he was used to hard work, and he didn't complain about it.

"There is also a bulletin board with all of the requests pinned. Normally, it is best to choose a job compatible with your rank," Angela continued, informatively.

She pointed at the right side of the lobby. A large board that hanged as its overshadowing frame grabbed everyone's attention.

"Once you have completed the request, you will need to bring back any proof and report back to the guild. So, we may process your achievements and give you your reward."

Roland nodded. He bid Angela a good day. Although the process was short and unexcitable, Roland was officially an adventurer and couldn't wait to start his first mission. He twirled and walked over to the bulletin board.

Once he was gone, Angela pulled the form out of the box and looked. A furrowed brow formed on her face while humming in remembrance.

"Mors? Where have I heard that name before?"

* * *

The size of it took up much space with the brown exterior clashing with the red and gold wallpaper. However, the large crowd gathering around it tore the requests off of the board hastily — much of the remaining papers hanging scattered and few. Luckily, the demands for porcelain-ranked adventurers were more proportional compared to the other requests. Roland picked the first one that caught his eye and skimmed through the print.

 _Herbal Weeds Required. Will pay two shillings for one sack full_.

Roland reached for the pamphlet but ceased when another hand accidentally tapped against his own. The black leather of the owner's glove felt incredibly soft against his skin, even for a brief second. He turned around, and Roland's face contorted in shock. Standing right in front of him, it was the same woman from earlier, having her head still concealed under a dark-blue hood.

"You!" They shouted in unison.

The hooded woman pointed her crystal staff. She recognized him instantly, gritting her teeth as her body flinched.

"You're that peasant boy from the streets!" the woman shouted, retaining her haughtiness. "What are you doing here? This guild is for professionals and not for bumpkins like you."

Roland gritted his teeth as the woman's attitude got on his nerves, but the tension mellowed when he heard her voice. Although her tone was harsh, the sound was quite lovely to Roland's ears. Almost like…music, and being so close, he wanted to listen to her voice forever. Roland snapped out as he pulled out his card and showed it to her face.

"I AM a member of this guild, now, and I'm looking for my first quest," Roland stated. "I just registered, and apparently, they seem to be okay with a bumpkin like me joining."

The woman seemed to be irate, but then she brushed it off.

"I guess they now let anyone join, huh?" she remarked. "Whatever. You can keep that pamphlet. I needed something to kill time, but seeing as you want it, I'll grab something more suited to my…skillset."

 _…and what skillset would that be? Being a complacent bitch_? He grimaced.

His brow arched while mentally chuckling.

She quickly tore the next poster that caught her eye. A glistening shine appeared from her face, hinting that she wore glasses. The hooded woman tucked the paper into the helm of her belt, rudely waved her hand at Roland. She twirled, walking away while swinging her hips. The heels of her blue boots clicked against the floor tiles as Roland watched her making her way to the available receptionist.

Letting out a frustrating huff of air, Roland tried not to let it get to him, and he returned to the board as the previous pamphlet stared was now in his grasp.

_Well, at least that's over. Hopefully, I can get things on track, and I won't have to deal with any more impediments._

He was ready to turn in. Unfortunately, another line quickly formed, and he had to wait another 30 minutes before he could be next.

_I spoke too soon…_

* * *

Roland headed back to Wayland's Forge while feeling the cold night air that brushed his face as he stepped out. He finally got his quest, though he was too exhausted to celebrate. Roland never knew it took even longer to file a request, experiencing the tediousness of bureaucracy firsthand. On the bright side, he was glad that hooded woman wasn't in line, and that she might have already left.

_What. A. Day. If I'm going to do this quest, then I better get home and get some sleep._

Roland huffed while slouching his arms. He made sure to hold onto the leather bag tightly over his shoulders, hearing its bronze buckles banging against the sheath of his sword. A gift from the Adventurer's Guild that he was going to need for his very first quest.

The streets were mostly vacant, having only a few passerby's walking about while the rest of Crown City had turned in. Streetlamps illuminated on every block as Roland stared at the candles burned in their glass prisons, but not bright enough to encompass the rest of the city. Raising his head, Roland winced at the gorgeous violet light while a soft sound emitted from the windows of the Sage's Academy southwest of Crown City, standing tall and crooked while the roof resembled a witch's hat. Whatever sort of sorcery they were brewing, Roland did not wish to find out and went on his merry way.

He noticed a few men dressed in blue as he shifted his gaze. The watchmen patrolled the streets, holding up their lanterns and kept their broadswords at their sides, had their eyes peeled for the first sign of trouble. Roland paid them no mind. Such a time was the most frequent for crime, especially in such a broad street. Still, it told Roland he needed to hurry up and get home before someone jumped at him and rob him blind.

Right when he was about to turn to another corner, Roland heard noises coming from the alleyway close to him. Leave to him and his curiosity to give him an excuse to sneak around and see. Leaning against the white wall, one of the watchmen moaned amorously as a prostitute in a crimson corset took his whole member in her mouth, slowly bobbing her head while caressing her ample bosom.

Roland watched it all and wanted to walk away. He tried to mind his own business, but his eyes were too invested as an erection formed in his trousers.

The watchman finished. The harlot smiled while feeling him released all over her face, though some dripped to her tits also. Taking notice of Roland's presence, the watchman glared daggers at him.

"What the bloody hell are you looking out?" the watchman sneered. He shook his fist and bellowed. "Get out of here before I teach you a lesson about watching other people!"

"I'm sorry!"

Roland jumped and dashed, refusing to look back as he made his way home, running at a small pace not to draw more attention. He walked through the door and locked it from behind. His eyes were wide, and his heart slowly stopped racing. Roland was glad he got out of there before he got into trouble with the law, even though he did not do anything wrong.

Suddenly, after taking a whiff of the air, Roland's mouth drooled as a delicious aroma filled the air. He noticed a light coming from the kitchen, and the sound of music drowning out the rattling pots and pans. He turned to the clock hanging on the wall. It was already eight in the evening, and yet there was someone still up.

Roland investigated. He walked in to see Brunhilda playing her clay ocarina as she tended to the stove, watching over the stew from overboiling in the cooking pot. She played pretty well, and Roland couldn't help but go after the harmonious melody. Standing at the dinner table, Tor had already set up the eating ware while tapping his feet to the rhythm. He resisted the urge to snack on the freshly cooked loaves of bread, comically gripping and pulling his right hand back as Roland chuckled from the amusing display of willpower.

"Roland! You're back!" Brunhilda finally noticed his presence. She quickly hid her ocarina in her back pocket, nervously pretending it didn't exist. "S-so, how was the exam? Did you get into the Adventurer's Guild? If so, have you gotten your first quest, yet?"

"Y-yeah, I did. However, it's too late for me to go gallivanting," Roland replied. "What about you? What are you' all doing?"

"We're in the middle of making supper for the evening," Tor interjected. His short legs waltzed up to the head of the table and sitting down.

"Supper? At this hour?"

Tor shrugged while accidentally taking a roll.

"We have a lot of work to do," Tor stated. "Making horseshoes and nails. It's best to fill up our bellies and get everything done, burning all of the fat in our bodies before heading off to bed."

"And the music? Is that something you also do at dinner?"

"It's a …nothing. It's something to pass the time while the stew is cooking merely," Brunhilda embarrassingly stated. She waved her ocarina for Roland to see before stuffing it in her back pocket.

"So, do you want to join us," she continued. "We always make too much and, some of the stew always go to waste, though. I would ask your friend, but she's been asleep the whole day."

He was going to need to check on her afterward. Roland wanted to refuse politely. Just then, his stomach growled.

"I guess I can make time for a quick bite."

He hadn't eaten all day, and one serving wouldn't hurt him, he thought. So, he sat down as Brunhilda placed a spare bowl and filled it to the brim. Although Roland thought it smelled divine, the appearance said otherwise. He poked his spoon into the brown broth. Roland then stirred the large chunks of meats while noticing what little vegetables—carrots, unions, and cabbage—took up much of the bowl. He poked at the paunchy mushroom caps floated while the potatoes soaked.

He arched a brow and turned to Tor.

"So…what sort of stew is this, anyway?" Roland asked.

"It's Kernig Stew," The old dwarf had already scarfed most of the contents of his bowl down, stopping only to catch his breath and wiping the soup off of his scraggly beard. "A traditional broth of my people in the Mountains of Lear, of the Ironforge Tribe. Eat plenty of it, and the stew will help build up your vitality and give you the strength to work twice as hard as possible."

"It also keeps you long in the chamber pot, if you know what I mean," Brunhilda added, whispering into Roland's ear.

She managed to get a smile out of him as they both chuckled, but Tor caught wind and gave the two an aggravated look. Roland and Brunhilda stopped and began eating. Brunhilda sat beside Roland, scooting up as close as possible without making things awkward. Her hand gingerly brushed against his slender thigh before apologizing. She didn't eat as much as Roland, who watched her pick at her stew, taking bites from the contents she liked (that is, mostly vegetables). Brunhilda didn't care much for the meat, unlike her father, but still ate some to balance out her diet.

Roland was halfway done but pushed the bowl away as he could no longer finish, noticing Tor swiping it up for himself, much to his daughter's disgust.

"Are you sure you don't want anything else," Tor asked hospitably.

Roland shook his head, "No, thank you. I think I'm good. I need to get to bed before tomorrow."

Brunhilda patted him on the shoulder while finishing her meal.

"You might want to wait a while before you do," she pointed at her bosom and sternly advised. "The stew is meant to keep you from sleeping and preoccupy you. If you lie down too quickly, your heart burning like a forge will be the one thing to expect."

Roland clenched his chest before smiling weakly, "I'll be sure to avoid that discomfort."

After bidding them goodnight, Roland got out of his seat and proceeded upstairs.

* * *

Josephine woke up to find Roland walking through the bedroom door and remained stunned. She lay indelicately above the sheets and her body in a tired stupor as Roland walked up and plopped at the edge. She kept her eyes closed, and she snickered a little.

_Let's see if he can tell if I'm asleep or not._

He smiled. Roland looked at her and thought she was adorable, minus the drool dripping from the side of her mouth and her snoring.

"Jo. Are you awake?" He whispered. His hand reached, and delicately shook the side of her arm.

"Barely, but I'm happy to wake up to your handsome face."

Roland blushed at the compliment and scratched the back of his neck. "I knew you weren't sleeping. Also, that's the first time you called me that."

Josephine knew she couldn't fool him and opened her eyes. She turned to Roland, and after rubbing her eyes, her face brightened as Roland received a crushing bearhug. The air almost squeezed out of his lungs before punching him lightly in the arm.

"Took you long enough to get back. " Josephine mused. "How was the Adventurer's Guild? Did you get in?"

"Yeah, I did." He showed her the card as Josephine took it and examined it. "Honestly, it was pretty easy. However, I am not technically an adventurer until I completed my quest and got the reward."

He showed her the pamphlet. Josephine read it and pursed her lips.

"That doesn't seem too hard," commented Josephine. "Hopefully, once I get to the Woodcutter's Guild, it will be just as simple."

Josephine started taking her clothes off and flashed a suggestive grin. "But enough about that. For now, let's celebrate," she continued. Roland became aroused as Josephine's naked body crawled closer.

Roland kissed her. Out of passion and no longer feeling shy. Josephine kissed back, biting his lower lip before pulling back and watching Roland flinched.

Her hand caressed the bulge in his trousers while biting her lower lip. Ever since they arrived in the city, Josephine had waited for the opportunity. Roland, on the other hand, no longer shared her enthusiasm. The entire day exhausted him, and he wanted to go to bed. That was when he remembered what he saw earlier as Roland grabbed her and moved to face her.

"Josephine. Do you want to try something…different?" Roland nervously asked.

Josephine raised her brow in confusion.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, instead of having regular sex, why not use your mouth," Roland explained. He leered away slowly, becoming scared of her reaction.

"Why would you want me to do that?" Josephine scowled, feeling a sense of uneasiness washing over her.

She scooted away from him, her lecherous posture wading in a slouch, lips drooping into a questionable frown. Roland didn't give much of a proper explanation, not wanting to tell her to think of him as a pervert.

Roland shrugged and sighed.

"It's been a long day, and I'm a little tired, that's all. Also, it's something I wanted to experience for a while with you, Jo."

Josephine pinched the bridge of her nose and groaned. She wanted to refuse as the thought made her sick. Turning around, she was about to tell him, no, but then an idea came to her mind.

"Alright, Roland. I'll do it."

"Really?"

Roland's face lit up upon hearing those words, which quickly faded as Josephine flashed a predatory smirk as something devious crossed her mind.

"However, there's one condition you have to do for me, and that's for you to use those soft lips on me."

Roland wanted to refuse, but he sighed and complied.

"Alright. I'll do it," Roland nodded. "So, should I do it after you finish, or…"

Roland was on his back, and she was on top of him. He continued kissing until she started moving down. Then, without warning, Josephine turned and pressed her ass against his face, taking the initiative while finding some amusement in Roland's confusion.

"Actually, I thought that we should kill two birds with one stone," she told him, making sure his mouth was in position. "That way, we can both enjoy our passions at the same time without missing anything." Pleasure etched onto her face as Roland's muffles massaged against the folds of her womanhood.

Her voice was confident to the point of domineering, but some fear was present, and Roland wished she didn't push herself too hard. She bit her bottom lip, letting out a small moan. Josephine noticed the tent forming in Roland's trousers and slid her hands sensually toward his groin, making sure not to fall while her knees balanced her small frame. Her hand found what it was looking for, and slowly jerked at his cock to get it nice and perfectly stiff through his pants.

Freeing his little friend from its prison, Josephine positioned herself, making sure not to touch the stitching on Roland's leg. She hesitantly paused, at first.

Josephine managed to steel herself and took his manhood against her pale lips. His musky smell entered her nose—she gagged but quickly found an arousing appeal to it. Josephine engulfed the tip of his shaft before slowly moving to the base, and Roland, quite hesitant, started going to work, using tongue with his hands holding her slender thighs.

"Having fun over there, are we?" She teased with an aggressive tone. "Don't get too worked up. We still have the whole night."

_Jo. You have no idea. However, I don't know how long I can last._

Memories of their first time flooded, though it was quite recent.

Josephine's shy and tender gleam embedded in his vision quickly shattered and replaced by her newfound demeanor, which made Roland wonder how she developed such an attitude. Nevertheless, he didn't want to give her the satisfaction of taking control over him as his manhood throbbed, getting ready to erupt. Roland needed to fight back, and grab hold of the situation, pushing further and increasing his movement until his mouth became numb. He roamed and found his way to her anus, feeling it loosened from his rippling massage.

"Oh!" Josephine lightly squealed with her mouth drooling. "Roland. whatever you are doing, it feels incredibly strange, and my body won't stop quivering."

"Do y-you want me to stop, Jo?" Roland asked with his mouth muffled.

"No. Keep going," Josephine pleaded. "I want to feel such pleasure from you, and I want you to feel such pleasures from me."

She swallowed him once more without gagging. Her small and soft tongue wrapped around his base as his manhood grew harder in her cheeks. She wasted no time in her movements, pulling Roland's cock in as deep down her throat as possible. Josephine's tongue swirled around the underside of his shaft, bringing his attention to the pleasure formulating as they both felt fantastic with the world melting around them.

_This is amazing. I never thought Josephine was capable of this…_

Roland felt the hot, wet sensation pushing him over the edge, but he wasn't the first to finish. Right when he was about to come, Roland's face became soaked as Josephine erupted from her womanhood, tasting her salty juices that flowed seemingly nonstop like a spring.

"Sorry about that. I couldn't control myself," Josephine said, feeling a little ashamed.

Roland didn't hold it against it, and he felt her bringing her lips down again, kissing and sucking him off without the usual hesitation from before, wanting to get it all done. He barely held on as Josephine's motion grew faster. Her hand moved to her slender breasts as she massaged her nipples to make them hard. It was at that moment that Roland groaned and found his release, spilling his seed and filling Josephine's mouth as she pulled away to swallow. She nearly regurgitated from his salty texture but managed to take it all, albeit with a few coughs that she had to fight back.

_Damn it, Roland! What the hell did you eat?_

Josephine glared but quickly brushed it off, crawling under the sheets and snuggling up to Roland, hearing him puff out a breath of air as euphoria washed all over him. Roland blinked and then received a kiss on the cheek, his seed mixing with her juices. Still, he wasn't bothered by it.

After telling each other "goodnight," the kerosene lamp was blown out, and they went to bed. Tomorrow was a brand-new day with brand new opportunities, and Roland couldn't wait for it to come. However, something started gnawing at his inner thoughts, and he realized a critical factor that was missing.

_I have no idea how to fight? What would happen if I'm faced with a dangerous creature again? I might get killed if I don't know how to use a sword._

His body shook and almost had a panic attack, though he managed to calm himself down in a matter of seconds. Although it seemed necessary, he digressed as his quest was weed picking and nothing dangerous. What sort of danger was waiting for him at such a menial task?

* * *

Outside of the walls of Crown City, somewhere deep in the eastern forests of Aestraia, the hooded woman made her way to a deep cave. The echoes of her heels clicking against the stone floor just outside the mouth made her jump a little.

She was in the right place but hesitated from entering. At first, she took it to show off the lowly commoner, but going in was suicidal from a porcelain-ranked adventurer.

It wasn't easy, but she managed to convince the receptionist to give her an exception. All she had to do was bribe the receptionist with a gold farthing to look the other way (along with giving him a peek at her bosom). Once she was approved, the woman was ready to start her journey. However, from the moment she arrived, her legs refused to comply as the cave's ominous insides struck fear into her heart.

 _This is crazy! This is crazy! Why did I even decide to do this?!_ she shuttered from having second thoughts.

The woman sighed before gripping the base of her staff tightly until her palms hurt. Reaching into the satchel on her right, she pulled out and looked at the quest sheet: "Collect one manticore egg from Durnwytch Caverns. Will pay fifteen shillings." Her confidence slowly returned as there was no turning back now, and she needed to do this to prove her worth.

The crystal on her staff glowed as the woman waved it at the entry, serendipitously discovering no sign of threats that might be guarding the passageway. "Alright. it seems that the manticore is asleep already, thank the gods," she mumbled to herself in reassurance before putting her staff out. "As long as I don't think about the negatives, this will surely be an easy get in, get out without losing my head."

Before she entered the cave, the woman gave one last look at the shattered moon with her green eyes taking in its dilapidated beauty, never knowing if she'll see it again. In its vibrant light that shined down, more of the woman's face revealed what the hood restricted. The woman was young and beautiful, no older than twenty with a rather lithe, though nicely endowed figure with fair skin that blemished from the freckles on her face. Along with her long gloves and thigh-high boots, she wore a royal blue tunic and short skirt, showing off her impressive cleavage while the white and gold accents brightened the color. She pulled down her hood, fixing her long golden blonde hair (the bangs tied at the end to help her vision) that spilled down her back and shoulders while freeing her elongated, pointy ears from their prison as they drooped.

 _Alright, Fraeya. It's time to prove those snobs at the academy that you are worth something._ The elf mage straightened herself. Her ears erected straight upward, signifying her agitation while refusing to turn back.

After adjusting the frames of her glasses, the elven woman Fraeya scowled and managed to push herself into the cave, swaggering her hips in a means to appear bold. Unbeknownst to her, she was going to get a lot more than she bargained for once she dives deeper inside.


	6. Book 1: Chapter 6

Roland's eyes snapped open from a restless slumber. His gaze moved to the window in a dreary motion as he groaned. He shifted to the wooden clock, hearing the tiny gears clicking as he tried suffocating himself against his pillow.

_4 o'clock in the morning! Are you kidding me?!_

It was still night, but the pain in his chest kept him from returning to sleep. The stew was coming back on him, and his heart felt like it was about to explode. He needed to get up and walk it off, but he found a problem with that.

Roland pushed himself up by the elbows and sat against the headboard. Josephine clung to him with a tight grip, her face nestled up against his chest with her small breasts pressed to his arm. Her naked frame sought warmth and refused to let Roland go.

"Roland. Don't go. Don't ever leave me," Josephine murmured. Tears streamed from her eyes, unconsciously.

Roland's eyebrows lowered as he understood her despair. Her hand rubbed the scar on his leg—A reminder that he almost died. The pain Josephine endured as she stayed by his side, waiting for him to come back to the land of the living. A pain he didn't want her to go through ever again.

_…And I never will. I promise._

He placed his hand and gently wiped away her tears. The memories plagued her mind as she refused to let him go. One thing he hated was to leave her alone and cause her more pain.

"I'm not going anywhere, Jo. I'll be sure to come back," He whispered.

His calming voice relaxed her. Roland could watch her forever as Josephine slept peacefully. However, now wasn't the time to leer, and Roland desperately needed to move.

 _Alright, Roland. Got to be very careful and not wake up the sleeping bear._ He rubbed his stomach in reminiscence.

Slowly, he moved the sheets away with his body sliding out. He stopped for a second as Josephine started moving around, fearing she was waking up. Roland sighed, and with her grip loosening, he managed to break free and tiptoed his way out the door. Roland grabbed his sword and brought it with him. He couldn't leave without it, could he? Rubbing his chest once more, walking off won't be enough to get rid of such horrendous indigestion. Therefore, it was the perfect opportunity to get some use out of his sword as he went outside to get some exercise.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Throughout the night, the Waylands worked underneath the house. The two prattled around the earthly room. Both of them trying to meet their quota while enduring the forge's scorching heat. The amber glow emanating from the large and robust furnace brought the only source of light in the whole basement.

Tor mended the forge with a stern and concentrated brow. He carefully poured into each mold, making sure not to spill while the fire kept ablaze. The smoke filtered through the pipes sticking into the dirt walls and out into the open as Tor's foot pumped the bellows. He made sure to keep his beard tucked into his leather apron before hammering in the solid pieces of metal. Sparks immediately flew and struck his bare forearms without a flinch or scorch. The thought of catching it on fire terrified him. Not out of a fear of death, but out of the fear of emasculation. To a dwarf, a beard was a sign of manhood, and Tor could not risk losing letting that go up in smoke.

With each nail and horseshoe done, he quickly took them out as Brunhilda snatched them from his hands, cooling them off into the water fix before she proceeded to hammer them in the final additions. She didn't need to cover her face as she endured the sparks bouncing off her lovely skin and bosom. The goggles she wore protected her eyes, but it wasn't enough. Sure. No matter what they wore, dwarves could handle the heat. Nevertheless, even they have a limit.

The heat started getting to her. Sweat fell into her bodice. The leather slowly clung to her skin uncomfortably. She made a couple of mistakes, throwing the rejects into the bin and started all over. Hot steam surrounded her. Sweat trickled down from her body, and her throat became dry as she opened her mouth and coughed slightly. Hanging up her apron, Brunhilda decided it was time for a break.

"Where are you going, Brunhilda. We still got some shoes to make," Tor barked.

"Don't get your beard in a not, dad. I'm just getting some water," said Brunhilda without turning around.

"Well, while you're out there. Would you mind bringing in the scrap metal? We're almost out," Tor suggested. Brunhilda complied with a wave of her hand and stepped out.

The cellar doors flew open. Brunhilda climbed up and met the chilling night air while walking to the other side of the house. The horse inside the single stable remained indifferent before Brunhilda leaned her back against the wall.

 _Nothing ever bothers you. Isn't that right, Magni._ Brunhilda somberly mused before turning away. _If only I were as carefree as you…_

With a waterskin in hand, she drank the refreshing water down until it was empty. Rivulets escaped from her pink lips and sluiced down from her cleft chin, dripping to her cleavage before sliding on her flat stomach. An exasperated sigh uttered as she carelessly tossed the skin away.

Bliss washed over Brunhilda as she was relieved to be out of that blistering inferno (There's so much heat she could take). Her green eyes stared to the large tree in her backyard before darting to the stars, admiring the wonders heaven had to offer. So much beauty to behold, and she didn't want to leave her spot.

A lot appeared on her mind, and Brunhilda didn't feel like going back to work. It wasn't that she hated working. Quite the contrary, she loved working in the forge. Being part of the family business brought her much joy, her face lighting up when making horseshoes and nail. But was that all there was? In her heart, she felt a void that needed to be filled and made her query if there was more than could be done?

_Well, it's not like there's anything else for a blacksmith._

She could spend the rest of her free time solving such a conundrum, but she wasn't going to. Instead, Brunhilda wanted only to relax before heading back. She raised her arms and stretched, her eyes growing heavy from fatigue as she rubbed them. Brunhilda reached into her back pocket and brought out her ocarina. Music filled the air as she played. Her fingers coordinated at each hole, coordinating the acoustics into a harmonious resonance. However, that did nothing to calm her listlessness as she stopped and sighed. She lounged and stared at the ground, watching her boots aimlessly kicking against the grass. Frost dissipated into moisture off the leaves from the slight touch.

 _I'm sorry, mum. It's not doing it for me._ Brunhilda's mind started to drift. _Maybe I should find another way to fix…whatever's getting me down. What am I saying? It's not that's ever gonna…_

Suddenly, the backdoor flew open, and Brunhilda peaked to see someone walking out. Startled, Brunhilda was on high alert as she remained hidden behind the stable, her hand on the hammer hanging on her belt. Besides her father and herself, no one should be up so late and moving in the night, except for possibly a thief breaking in to steal their wares. Keeping her stance secure, she was ready to defend her home from any intruder, though she intended to scare him instead of hurting him. The figure approached the moonlight and revealed his face as Brunhilda stared in dismay.

_Roland? What is he doing up so late?_

Her battle stance abandoned, and the tension immediately eased. A feeling of suspicion and curiosity arose as she tiptoed closer, hiding behind the crates labeled "scrap metal." She was extra careful not to get caught while observing the human tenet. Roland approached the stump in the center, his bare feet leaving small prints on the soil, but he didn't care. It was the same one Brunhilda, and her father used to cut wood, though left unattended for a while to the point some of the lumber started to rot away. He grabbed a log in the center and tossed it in the air. Brunhilda was baffled at the stunt.

She watched him drew his sword from its sheath. The shine from the moonlight against the blade was enough to grab Brunhilda's attention as Roland swung it to his side, attempting to cut the log in half but missed. He stomped in frustration after it landed to the ground, and he tried making a second attempt to slice it in half. Each swing was even more haphazard than the first one, making him look more like a fool. For the dwarven smith, it was quite entertaining.

 _What kind of posture is that?_ Brunhilda chuckled. Her hand covered her mouth so as not to give herself away.

Even after twenty minutes of watching, her eyes barely moved away. However, Brunhilda's expression gradually changed.

 _I can't tell if I'm watching a grown man swinging a sword, or a child swinging a stick. I sure hope he doesn't get himself hurt, though._ A look of pity emerged as she became concerned for the young man. _Maybe I should step in and give him some pointers._

His frustration grew more, stomping his feet while resisting the urge to yell at the top of his lungs. Nevertheless, Roland did not give up. He was sure to get this one right without any hiccups. Right when she was about to walk over, Brunhilda immediately backed away. Her whole face lit up in shock as Roland unintentionally tossed the sword. The end of the blade piercing into the trunk of a large cedar that stood before them.

"Mother!"

She rushed over to the tree to get a look at the damage. She knelt and brushed a hand against the bark, caressing the significant mark before aggressively prying the sword out.

"What is wrong with you?!" Brunhilda gasped.

Roland jumped as Brunhilda storming up to him. She raised her head to meet his gaze while her fists clenched intensely. He wanted to ask how long she was present, but it wasn't the time for that, as Brunhilda shouted erratically.

"Do you have any idea what you've done?! You can't just throw swords willy-nilly without expecting to not cause damage, especially with the casualty you have already committed!" She pointed at the tree without taking her eyes off him.

Roland noticed tears trailing down her face as Brunhilda resumed: "You have to take account in your actions and acknowledge the things, or the people, you might hurt in your recklessness. Do I make myself clear?!"

"Yes. Understood."

Thoroughly reprimanded, Roland nodded vigorously. Brunhilda pushed White Fang's hilt against his chest as the air knocked out of him.

He looked nervous at that point and avoided eye-contact. Despite the fear coursing in his veins, Roland managed to mumble his acquiescence. Brunhilda held her glare for a while until she walked back to the tree. Her hands gripped the rope that was tied to the trunk, tracing a thumb over the cut while being extra careful not to ruin the tassels.

Roland followed her in pursuit but still kept his distance. He reached his arm out to touch her shoulder, but Roland pulled back when he realized it's not a good idea.

"Is there…anything I can do to help?" Roland asked, guilt accumulating in his voice. "It's my fault for the damage, and I wish to make things right. If that is alright with you?"

"It's fine, Roland. It's nothing I can't fix," Brunhilda remarked.

After she tied rope back in place, she twirled in Roland's direction. Her scowl didn't disappear any time soon.

"What are you doing here?" Brunhilda questioned. "Aren't you supposed to be in bed?"

"I could ask you the same thing," Roland said, defensively.

Brunhilda crossed her arms and intensified her glare at him.

"Sorry…Uhm, I was just here getting some practice with my sword," said Roland. He held his sword up and demonstrated his subpar skills in front of her.

That seemed to have eased Brunhilda a bit as she waved her hand for him to stop. "So, you want to get ready before your big day, huh," she remarked. A slight giggle escaped her lips as her arms lowered.

"That's correct." Roland nodded.

"I can understand that, but you're not going to get anywhere with those moves," Brunhilda pointed out.

There was a teasing tone to her voice that made Roland feel more inadequate than she realized, but he did not back down and defended himself. Memories of his father's criticisms rang in his ears as Roland fumed with his face flustered.

"Then I'll get better!" he protested. "All I have to do is keep swinging my sword, and I'll be able to master the rhythm and motions."

Brunhilda rolled her eyes.

"No offense, Roland, but this isn't dancing," she retorted. "There's more to fighting than choreographs. When you're up against imposing enemies, you need to know the stances, techniques, and timing."

"I could learn that stuff on my own," Roland continued to protest. "I defeated a demon boar in my hometown. If I believe in myself, then I could surely learn all of that if I try harder."

"Logiburst."

"What?"

"That's what that beast is called," Brunhilda corrected him. "And you got lucky in killing a Logiburst."

Brunhilda stood tall in front of Roland. Her patience ran thin as she pointed her finger at the palm of her hand in emphasis.

"From the way you and Josephine described it, the beast didn't seem that strong, in my opinion," Brunhilda continued. Her tone became more critical. "However, there are many other monsters stronger and hungrier that you'll face. You can wing your sword all you like, but you need someone with experience to teach you how to fight properly. That way, you'll avoid an early grave if you come up against even more dangerous foes."

"Is that so?"

Her brow furrowed as Brunhilda hated when people don't take her seriously. Without giving him any warning, she grabbed Roland's arm and kicked him underneath, flipping him over her shoulder without much effort. His body tumbled as Brunhilda watched him land on his back, pinning her foot against his chest in dominance (someone so short quickly took out someone so tall).

"Yes. It is." Brunhilda smirked.

It took Brunhilda a couple of seconds for her to realize what she had done. Roland groaned softly, which was enough for Brunhilda to feel guilty. A small frown replaced her grin as she got down to help him up on his feet.

"Oh, great spirits! Are you okay?" Brunhilda asked worriedly. "I am so sorry that I did that. I don't know what came over me."

Roland coughed. The wind knocked out of his lungs, but what truly hurt was the blow to his ego. Roland wanted to be angry at her, but all of his anguish disappeared with a sigh. He smiled at her and reassured, taking in deep breaths before raising his hand forgivingly.

"It's okay. I'm used to this kind of roughhousing," Roland joked. "When you have a friend like Josephine, it becomes a normal kind of situation."

Brunhilda chuckled but didn't feel any better. She had never used such force on someone, and she felt uncomfortable doing so. She still held on to his arm and caressed his muscle tenderly, but stopped with red cheeks and let go, much to Roland's surprise also.

"Still, let me try and make it up to you, though," said Brunhilda. She helped straighten out his tunic, absentmindedly touching his flat stomach and chest.

Leering away in embarrassment, Roland rubbed the back of his head and avoided eye contact. "Well, ~. If you want to make it up to me, then how about teaching me a few fighting moves." It felt odd for Roland to ask such a request and had trouble admitting when he was wrong. Brunhilda had humiliated him, but it was enough to make Roland see the big picture.

The fact that Brunhilda was silent with a flabbergasted gaze made him feel like he stepped out of line. Was she not okay with that?

"Forget I said anything. I didn't mean to put you on the spot…"

"Alright. I'll do it."

Roland's eyes widened, astonishingly. It took him a moment to respond, but long enough for Brunhilda to be pleased.

"R-really?'

"Of course. If giving you some guidance means you won't get yourself killed, then I'll be happy to whoop you into shape," Brunhilda teased. She poked him in the stomach and giggled at him winced. "Also, you're Jason Mor's grandson. Once you make it big, I might become famous."

Stars twinkled in her eyes, much to Roland's chagrin as he stared deadpanned. This opportunity was the big break she looked forward to, and the thought of training someone brought her much glee. Her expression brightened while sighing, but there was a hint of doubt in it. Slowly, Roland opened his mouth, wanting to voice his opinion as Brunhilda leaned in to hear it.

"Brunhilda! Where are you?" a booming voice erupted from the cellar, causing the dwarf woman to flinch as she shifted her panicking gaze. "Your thirty-minute break is up, and I need you back with my metal shards!"

"Well, that's my cue to get back to work," said Brunhilda with a huff.

She walked over to a small crate and lifted its entirety without issue under her toned arm.

"Do you…need any help?" Roland offered.

"That's okay. I can handle it," Brunhilda declined.

She swaggered away but turned back to Roland, her head looking over her shoulder.

"Once I finish my job, we'll get started on your training."

Roland said nothing. He watched her descend into the basement as his gaze became glued to her curvaceous rear. It was quite eye-catching, but he managed to brush it off and sauntered over to the stump. Alone with only the starry night to keep him company for a while until the fun truly begins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, everyone. This is Kman134 with a new chapter of Legacy. Now, this chapter (along with the next one) is focused primarily on Brunhilda and Roland's interaction and will give some insight into Brunhilda's life (and also dwarf culture) to flesh her out. Sorry if it seems short, but I thought it should be a short chapter. Also, I'm planning on adding interludes to add more worldbuilding and answer some questions. Anyways, I hope you enjoy this piece and feel free to write as many reviews as possible.


	7. Book 1: Chapter 7

The shattered moon moved from its usual spot with the twilight of the sky wading. The night air grew colder as Roland remained in place. The condensation of his breath appeared while rubbing his arms to stay warm, wanting to call it a night and return to bed. Nevertheless, he continued waiting for Brunhilda to return, knowing that he had to be patient if he wanted to learn from her. Fortunately, it didn't have to wait any longer than he thought.

"It's the first time in my life a boy waited this long for me." Brunhilda mused. Roland turned and jolted up, seeing the dwarf woman approached him slowly. "I told my dad I was heading to bed. So, now we have all the time to ourselves."

Looking to her side, Roland noticed that she held two wooden swords in both her hands. Brunhilda tossed one to Roland, catching it before he fumbled over and almost dropped it.

"What is this for?" Roland asked, confused.

"Before you can properly use a real one, you must first use this prop sword to get a handle on it," said Brunhilda. "According to you, humans, swordsmen are disciples of Orthos."

"Orthos?" Roland became befuddled, the name seeming alien to him.

"The god of order and discipline," said Brunhilda, matter-of-factly. She placed her prop sword over her shoulders. "All swordsmen are trained by his teachings, using his tenets bestowed without remissness. At least, that's what my mother explained when she trained me."

Roland scratched his head while trying to absorb the information, remaining dumbfounded with a slacked jaw. It was like he was back in school, and the teacher was already hounding for answers from her student.

Brunhilda waited for his input but quickly moved on. Picking up one of the logs, she tossed it into the air. She shifted her hand to the side, flexing her muscles before waiting for the right moment, and then wholly obliterated the wood with one sing, and immediately after that, the chips scattered all over the grass. Her palm gripped tightly, and the movement, to Roland, brought memories of how Josephine sliced against the trunk of a tree, waving her ax with such incredible strength.

Brunhilda brushed the dust off her clothes, some of the chips landing in her bodice as she picked them out. She remained unfazed, maintaining a stern demeanor; it was as though it was second nature to her. Roland shielded his face from the blast as he took aback, not wanting it to hit his eyes but spat out some of the debris. He stayed stock still, remaining astounded with his jaw nearly hitting the ground.

_Alright. I'm impressed._

"With the right amount of strength and precision, you too can do such tremendous feats, with the right practice, that is," said Brunhilda. "Many warriors of old cannot channel such incredibility on their own. Every hero and adventurer learned to do so from somewhere and someone, and they were able to defeat the most dangerous foes that have ever arisen in history."

"Just like how Leo defeated the Eldritch King," muttered Roland, shifting his gaze with wonder in his eyes to White Fang on his back, and then turned back to the dwarf blacksmith. "You're saying anyone can accomplish such feats? How long does it take?"

"Usually, like any other practice, years."

"Wait. What?" Roland blinked.

"Fortunately, since I'm the one teaching you the beginner's level, it'll still be enough for you," Brunhilda reassured him. She sauntered close and raised her sword, preparing to fight with her posture firm. "Alright. The class is now in session. Show me what you got."

Roland hesitated, trying to mimic his trainer's stance while his hands shook, trying to find a natural grip against his prop sword. Brunhilda's lectures felt oddly comforting, but her goading him to start on the spot made the situation more intense. Nevertheless, Roland didn't back down as he ceased his shivering and charged, flashing a determined scowl while swinging his sword aimlessly. That was his greatest mistake. Brunhilda quickly blocked him and pushed him away.

"Remember, you cannot recklessly charge in like a maniac. That will lead only in a quick death," Brunhilda remarked, after a minute. She sprinted with precision and swung her sword close to Roland's face. "Think fast!"

Roland took her advice, sensing her attack inches close and dropping almost to the ground. His free hand supported his body before hopping back up. Brunhilda had her turn, and she waited for Roland to make another move. He tightened his grip, making sure the handle wouldn't fly loose on contact.

Roland took a deep breath and rushed forward. Making sure to think first, he tried not to make the same mistake. Once he got close enough, Roland swooped down and delivered an overhead arc. Brunhilda didn't block it. Instead, she leaped away, something that caught him off guard. For a woman so short, she was quite agile. Brunhilda then swung again. The intensity of her attacks made his blood run cold. Roland managed to block her retaliatory thrust to his abdomen clumsily but lost his footing. Brunhilda chuckled and helped him up.

"I'm impressed. You managed to block that attack fast, but you only got lucky. I doubt you'll be able to block the next one."

She was not wrong. Roland indeed couldn't block the second, or third, or fourth, as she redirected her aim to his sides, legs, and even his head. Roland fought back, bringing down another slash, but Brunhilda counted on his predictability. She ducked and grabbed his arm, twirling her body around and landed as Roland received the killing blow, his abdomen struck hard from the back of her elbow. Roland stumbled back, pain erupting all over with the air knocked out of him. He nearly crumbled to the ground but kept himself from collapsing, using his wooden sword to levy his body. Roland took a knee and was already exhausted, beads of sweat fell from his brow and nearly coughed up the contents of his stomach.

"That's smart…" Roland groaned. His body throbbed in pain, and several bruises already spread across his body. Roland knew he was going to be sore when morning comes, and he won't know how he'll explain it to Josephine.

"I'm sorry, but it's something you need to expect," Brunhilda lectured, strolling up to him. "All warfare is based on deception, and you need to be sure you're one step ahead of your enemies."

"Is that something a disciple to the god of order encourages?" Roland asked sardonically.

"Not really, but even a warrior has to use such tricks if he is to win a war," said Brunhilda. She swung her hand, dismissively. "honor is practiced only in duels, and it has no place on the battlefield."

Roland nodded. Brunhilda set her sword over her shoulders and pursed her lips as watching him wreath became uncomfortable to bare.

"You good?" she asked, helping him up and checking the severity of his wounds. "We can stop and take a break if you want. You don't have to push yourself too hard."

"No. I can handle it. If I'm going to become an adventurer, then I need to get used to the rough stuff, that's all." Roland remarked. He raised his prop sword, but he staggered and rubbed his stomach as it growled irritably. "…maybe, we should take a break after round 2."

* * *

A few hours immediately passed. It was still dark with a semblance of light illuminated from the horizon. The sword training ended with Roland and Brunhilda shifting their focus from sparring to more direct instruction. Brunhilda taught him the basic blocks and then drilled him on them. She attacked him with telegraphed strikes, landing at him over and over until he became familiarized, using them effectively as he swung his wooden sword without too many slipups.

"Alright. I think you're already getting a hand of it," said Brunhilda. "Although you're still a little sloppy with choreography and execution."

"Thanks…I guess…" managed Roland, still winded from her attacks.

Her criticism was valid, but that didn't stop Roland from grumbling. Brunhilda set her sword aside and stretched. Roland did the same thing while seeing her gestured that it was time for a break.

"Don't worry, as a fast learner," said Brunhilda. "I expect you to phase it out no sooner than later. Also, it is the first day, so no need to rush."

Roland didn't say anything. He winced and held his stomach as Brunhilda became unnerved. He was groaning in pain, and she definitely knew why.

"My grandfather's stew is hitting you again?" Roland confirmed. She scratched her head and sighed, asking him to stay put as she walked away.

Roland lurched as he followed her. He stood behind and watched Brunhilda removed a couple of loose boards from the back of her house. She brought out a sizeable ceramic jug wrapped in vines and popped out the oversized cork. Picking up the ladle hanging on the side, Brunhilda scooped some of the green liquid contents.

"Here," Brunhilda offered, handing the spoon to Roland. "This will make your stomach feel better."

"What is it?"

"It's marsh wine."

Roland's face contorted in disgust, waving his hand in refusal. Brunhilda noticed his trepidation and laughed.

"No. it's not what you think," said Brunhilda. "It's a wine made out of fermented fruits from the marshlands, not made from the actual marsh."

"Oh. Well, that's a relief," Roland sighed. He took a sip, tasting the mellow and strangely sweet taste.

"Do you like it?" Brunhilda asked.

"It's good," commented Roland. he regained his composure, the pain in his stomach gone. "I'm feeling much better. Thank you."

"It's nothing…" Brunhilda said. She blushed, feeling warmth well up in her bosom. She liked to share with her friends, especially if it helped them feel better, and it felt strange that she thought of him as such but also highly.

"Come on. I know a good place where we can sit and enjoy the rest of this," Brunhilda continued, leisurely swinging the jug in his face. "After all that, you look like you could use a strong brew, and I bet I can drink you under the table.

"You really think I can't outdrink you?"

I know you can't. We dwarves have a strong constitution than you humans, and you could barely handle my grandfather's stew. So, what do you say? Want to prove me wrong?"

Frankly, he didn't want to go down to her level and wanted to refuse. He'd rather bed in bed than take part in a drinking game. However, something about her brown eyes prevented him from saying no. That, and Brunhilda's smug grin made Roland want to put the dwarf girl in her place.

"Oh, I'll be sure to prove you wrong. I'll drink you until your jugs are dry," Roland slowly nodded, but then rattled when he realized the way he said it.

Brunhilda was the same and stared at him awkwardly.

"Y-you know what I mean," said Roland.

Brunhilda nodded. She and Roland both headed into the stable. It smelled worse than Roland had expected, but that didn't stop the two. Staggering their feet across the straw-covered floor, Roland and Brunhilda sat on a pair of stools in the corner. They drank, and the marsh wine's inebriated effects took its toll. By the time they finished halfway, Roland and Brunhilda could barely maintain their balance.

"This is some good stuff. I've never tr-tried wine this strong before," said Roland, slurring some of his words. He still remained cognitive, but his vision seemed impaired. "Where'd ya get it?"

"Oh, it's a…" Brunhilda tried gathering her thoughts. Her red cheeks and tipsy demeanor were evident in her deep intoxication. "…it's from my cousins in the marshlands. You know, Grassdagger Dwarfs. It was a wedding present for my dad and…mum."

Roland perked up. Brunhilda's expression grew somber. She stared off into the distance as Roland became concerned.

"Hey. Is something wrong?" Roland asked.

Brunhilda rubbed her eyes.

"I'm sorry. Old memories cropped up, that's all," Brunhilda said. "Every time I think about my mum, I just can't help but get teary-eyed."

"What happened to your mother?"

Brunhilda took a deep breath. "She died…a long time ago," Brunhilda answered with a painful tone. "My mum was a soldier in the King's Royal Army. When the war between Aestraia and the Therian Empire broke out, she was called onto the frontline. Ever since then, she never returned."

"I thought dwarves were prohibited from joining the army?" Roland inquired.

"That's because she wasn't a dwarf. She was human," Brunhilda corrected. "My mum was stationed at the Mountain of Lear. That's where she met my father. One thing led to another, and the two married and had me."

 _Well, that explains why she's taller than her father._ Roland pondered but shook the thought as it seemed inappropriate.

"You know the tree you hit a while ago?" Brunhilda reminded him.

Roland grimaced while feeling a tinge of guilt, becoming aware that's more special than he initially perceived. Brunhilda gestured to the window as Roland looked out.

"That tree is special to me because it's all I have left of my mother," she continued. "When I was a little girl, my mother and I planted it, and I have taken care of it ever since."

"And the rope?"

She lowered her hand and shrugged. "An old Ironforge Dwarf tradition. If someone close to you has passed, it is customary to a rope with paper talismans around anything that reminds you of them." Brunhilda stated, half-heartedly. "It's mostly a way to have some sort of spiritual link to the dead in Valhalla. Then again, if you live in a system of catacombs, inside of a chain of mountains, then your most valued possessions are jewels, precious metals, and rocks."

"I don't know. I think it's pretty touching if you ask me. That is, having a tradition that brings you closer to a deceased loved one," said Roland. "Do you think that it's possible

"To be honest, I tend to have doubts about all that superstitions. If there is an afterlife, then I hope mum is happy there."

Roland smiled and scooted closer.

"You know, my friend Josephine said the same thing years ago," He stated. "Right when her mother died, that is."

Right when she was about to take another sip, Brunhilda almost dropped the ladle and spilled all of her drink. She opened her mouth and then closed it. Brunhilda grimaced as she looked at him, as though he said something completely unimaginable. She hadn't known Josephine as the two never talked once, but the thought that someone else went through the same ordeal as she just made Brunhilda feel like the world was definitely small.

"When we were fourteen, Josephine's mother died of an illness. After that, she became distraught and questioned whether there was an afterlife or not," Roland explained. "I didn't know what to say to her."

"You said nothing," she assumed.

"No. Not quite," Roland corrected. A little sigh escaped his lips, grabbing another swig as he composed himself. "I said whatever came to mind. Let me tell you it wasn't so awe-inspiring when I imagined it."

"So, what did you say?" Brunhilda asked. "It can't be anything stupid."

"I can't promise you that."

"Try me."

"Okay. Here goes." Roland sighed as he tapped his fingers at the edge of his seat, trying to gather his thoughts. "I told Josephine that 'every time you look at the sky, and every time you stare at the stars, you could see your mother. The one star that twinkles brightly. Well, that is your mother gazing down and watching over you,' or something like that. It was a long time ago, and it's hard to remember."

Roland expected Brunhilda to laugh, but there was no response. After a few seconds of silence, Roland turned and nearly jumped at the edge of his seat as Brunhilda's brown eyes started to tear up. Roland reached out and gestured concerningly.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm alright. it's nothing to get upset." Brunhilda smirked as she wiped the tears from her face. "That was beautiful. I never heard anything like that, and I just couldn't contain myself. That's all."

"Oh…"

Roland was no poet. He knew that much, but her reaction showed he had some talent.

"You really think so?"

"I know so. Did Josephine cried when you told her?"

He nodded at her question. "She always thanks me whenever we talk about it." And Roland always remembers how Josephine teasingly never let him live it down.

"Well…then, I guess Josephine's lucky to have a friend like you."

Brunhilda fiddled with her red hair for a few seconds. She tentatively hopped closer, almost hitting her jug and spilling its remaining contents. Her closeness caught Roland by surprise, and he didn't know what to do.

"…Brunhilda?"

"You know, you're the first person I told about my mother," she said, cathartically. She crossed her arms under her midriff as Roland flushed. "It's a relief, to be honest. Like a huge weight was lifted off my chest, and it just feels right talking to you about it, Roland."

"I'm glad to be of help."

He swallowed, now staring away from her gaze and at her ample bosom, then quickly, he nodded. Brunhilda caught wind and didn't seem to mind.

"Do you want to see them?"

Roland coughed, almost choking on his drink. He must not have heard her correctly as he stared at Brunhilda in befuddlement. They were both drunk and not making any sense, after all?

"W-what?"

"I said, do you want to see them?" Brunhilda repeated, grinning. Her tone became flirtatious as she wiggled herself.

As if having no control of himself, he nodded, and it was a remarkable sight. Brunhilda reached under the ends of her top and pulled up. Her breasts spilled out and bounced before his very eyes. His heart loudly beat as he became embarrassed. Brunhilda then gingerly stood up and moseyed over to his lap, her arms wrapping around his neck showed how much Roland towered over her. Temptation started knocking at the door as she hefted her breasts into his vision, and his mouth was an inch away from tasting her pierced nipples.

"You know, we still have the night all to ourselves." Her body language turned jovial with her face red in inebriation. "What say we have even more fun. I bet you and your little friend have never gotten wild in a barn before, right?"

Roland nearly swooned as her touch became more intimate, one hand sliding under his shirt to caress his chest while her hips grind against his crotch. She waited for his answer, the air growing thicker around them. Were they really going to do this? Was this the right thing to do? His mind conflicted with such thoughts. His lips quivered as Roland found himself in a difficult situation, but all the shame disappeared with his palms trailing below her waist and his head moving in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, everyone. This is Kman134. I'm here to bring you chapter 7 of Legacy. I know it's a short one and teases something suggestive at the ends, but that's a surprise for the next chapter. The chapter focuses mostly on Roland's training and him and Brunhilda getting to know each other personally. Anyways, I hope you all enjoy it and please write many reviews.


	8. Book 1: Chapter 8

Roland held Brunhilda tightly as he squeezed her rear. She pressed both her lips and her body against him. She kissed fiercely. It reminded Roland the first time Josephine kissed him, but much more tender yet still overpowering. Brunhilda's tongue swirled in his mouth, telling Roland she was experienced, and her hand caressed down from his chest to his crotch. A soft moan escaped when she pulled away to catch her breath. Brunhilda lowered her head sheepishly, and she fidgeted cutely with strands of red hair falling to her face. Her eyes immediately shifted cautiously to her horse; she didn't want to spook him.

 _Sorry, old friend. We didn't mean to disturb you._ Magni, on the other hand, watched the two but didn't care; a listless demeanor showed in his gaze as he continued eating his hay while ignoring their amatory dance. Brunhilda shrugged and turned back.

"You can take me if you want? I'm all yours, and you can do whatever you want with me," Brunhilda whispered, biting her lower lip while fiddling with his trousers' drawstring.

"…Umm." Roland blinked, being sober enough to stop.

Roland gawked at her, dumbfounded. Droplets of sweat fell from his brow. Although there wasn't much light in the stable, Brunhilda still noticed his troubling expression and became concerned, her hand resting on his cheek. Roland didn't answer. His mind was somewhere else, growing conflicted by the circumstance. Of course, he wanted to have his way with her, but is that wrong? If he turned her down, would she get angry? What about Josephine? He knew they weren't technically dating, but is he betraying her?

"Roland? Are you okay?" Brunhilda asked. That snapped Roland out of his train of thought.

"I'm fine. I was somewhere else," Roland assured, somberly. The gears in his mind halted. "I'm just having second thoughts, that's all."

"Is it about your friend?"

Roland nodded.

"Are you and her together?"

"Sort of…" Scratching his neck nervously, Roland barely had an answer to it. "It's a complicated subject we hadn't gotten across."

Brunhilda started feeling guilty and briefly turned away. She didn't want to hurt anyone, unsure if she should proceed any further. She didn't know Josephine that well, but from everything Roland told her, she could tell they had a lot in common. After a while, Brunhilda pivoted back. She kissed him again, pulling back while she teasingly bit his bottom lip.

"If you feel like you're doing something wrong, then you shouldn't be." A sincere smile arose as Roland's troubles withered. Her pleasant voice (along with the alcohol) diluted his worries. "You care about her, and that's admirable. However, you are not bound to her and shouldn't fear to betray her."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, we're all young and should live life to the fullest," she remarked, leaning back.

Roland greatly admired her body, not only her breasts but her sculpted abdomen as well. Seeing the baffled and confused look on his face, Brunhilda gently grabbed one of his hands and dragged it to her breast. That perplexed him more as he firmly cupped it. Roland had no idea what to say but didn't deny how large her bust was. It barely fit his hand, and as he dragged his fingers down, he twirled around the piercings on her nipple, held tightly by nobs. Giving it a gentle squeeze, Roland slowly released his grip but felt Brunhilda drawing his head closer with her hands around his neck. He completely lost himself into her impressive mounds as he smelled her musky, feminine scent.

"If you want to stop, then it's up to you, but is that really what you want to do? Perhaps, you should learn to let your inhibitions go, Roland," Brunhilda suggested, barely holding her voice together. "To become an adventurer, you have to try new experiences, both of the body and the mind. You have to learn to live on the edge, and only then can you truly understand what it means to be alive."

Roland took her breast into his mouth. She shivered as Roland trailed his tongue on her areolas, a weakness that rendered her helpless. He further removed her top and tossed it to the hay-covered floor. His hands caressed down her body, and he took in her voluptuous curves, stopping below to massage her round and stout ass behind her leather shorts. She moaned and enjoyed that a lot, already having her hand on his quickly hardening bulge, already taking his rod out and gently caressing his shaft.

"Let me teach you how to truly live as I have taught you how to wield a sword," Brunhilda prompted, getting off of him. "If that is alright with you?"

"Yes, please. I want you to teach me," Roland pleaded. He felt her going down and shiver as her mouth breathed against his cock.

Brunhilda still held a tight grip. Roland combed his fingers through her silky mane, and she responded with an affectionate giggle.

"Don't stop," he said, panting. "That feels so nice."

"You like it, don't you?" she mused. "Then you're going to like this."

After giving him a few strokes, she let out a delightful sigh and licked her luscious lips. Brunhilda gave the tip a sloppy kiss and then took him whole in her mouth. She used her time patiently to taste him, but that didn't last long as she started to bob her head and sucked greedily at the shaft. Roland let out a low, satisfied moan. His hand softly pushing her head to the rhythm, sending jolts of intense pleasure surging through him. He basically drowned in a deluge as he grew bigger inside her mouth. Brunhilda picked up on his subtle cues, going deeper to the base, sucking him further without gagging from the pressure.

"How are you doing that?" Roland asked, fearing of reaching his limit.

Brunhilda moved her head back as she stopped. A gasp for air escaped, and she issued another task with her mouth. This time, Brunhilda ran her tongue up and down his shaft. Then she proceeded to plant suckling kisses all over, pausing for a moment to answer his question.

"It just comes from years of practice. I'm not saying I'm proud of it, but it helps when finding a proper lover."

"Have you done this before?" he asked, already knowing the answer.

"I have had some lovers in the past, but they brought me nothing but heartbreak and disappointment," said Brunhilda. She grimaced as Roland saw the pain in her gaze. "I understand if you think I'm cheap, but I hope you won't hurt me just like they did."

"If you want someone who won't hurt you, then I'll be sure not to do so. You can trust me not to break your heart." Roland smiled. All of his raptures suddenly replaced with sympathy towards the dwarf woman, affectionately caressing a hand to her face.

Brunhilda accepted the gesture, nuzzling up against the back of his hand and greeting in his warming kindness with a gracious peck. She had never met such a lovely touch before, even with the men she courted. That proved to be a different case for her as Roland gave her comfort. She stood up and moved to take off her shorts, her white panties practically thin and stringy. As she tossed them away also, it enticed Roland even more so. Brunhilda immediately caught wind of it and returned to his lap. However, she hesitated, having told him her promiscuities troubled her. She paused on wanting to dive on in as her heart raced faster, but Brunhilda roughly brushed away such uncertainties as she embraced him.

"I must warn you that dwarf women are not soft like human women," Brunhilda cooed. Her bare folds moistened while rubbing against his cock. "If you take us to bed, you will definitely have your world rocked."

"You think I'm afraid of the challenge? I think I can handle you." Roland playfully looked offended. He squeezed her rear, receiving a soft jolt from Brunhilda. "I might still be inexperienced. I might still have a lot to learn. However, as you said before, I am a fast learner, and everything you threw at me was worth the challenge."

She bit her lower lips and purred lasciviously. Brunhilda didn't know what it was, but Roland's overconfidence became a real turn-on for her. She quickly kissed him again, and Roland kissed her back. In an instant, his primal lust kicked in and felt the warmth and tightness. So tight that Roland feared his manhood might snap off, especially if he didn't move it properly. He slowly grazed his shaft against her, taking his time before sliding in her lick womanhood, cautioning his lustful desire to plunge fast. Brunhilda let out a small squealing noise, which made Roland think of a mouse for a second. Pain and pleasure mixed in her expression, thinking how cute she looked, bringing the young adventurer close and teasing her neck with a kiss. He lifted her up and down, getting the momentum started, but that introduced an exciting new venture for him as Brunhilda started taking the helms.

"You better hold on tight, Roland," said Brunhilda, her voice becoming hoarser. "This is going to be a rough ride to handle, and you best be sure not to lose your stead."

Roland looked bewildered by her statement. In his inebriated state, he took a while to get his thoughts but later understood her words. She was still training him, even then. Brunhilda wanted to see if he learned what she'd taught him about the battlefield, taking charge and not be dominated by his opponent. Bucking her hips roughly, Brunhilda proved to be aggressive. She wrapped her legs around his waist, her hands grabbing his tunic and discarding it. Her breasts steadily bounced right into his face with each gyration. Roland moved his hands away from her bare butt and held on tight against his stool. The fear he might fall hindered his concentration, and it was embarrassing to land on his ass while having sex.

"That's it…right there," Brunhilda moaned, feeling her sensitive spot getting hit nicely. "I want you to keep going. Don't you dare slow down."

"Don't worry. I won't," Murmured Roland. He pushed his tool deeper in and heard Brunhilda gasped from the shock as she clung to his frame.

Brunhilda kissed him again, pushing her tongue into his mouth, which Roland found utterly exciting as he returned the favor. With all of his might, Roland pushed himself up and pinned Brunhilda to the stable's walls. He held her legs up as he thrust his hips harder. Roland felt Brunhilda's fingernails digging into the skin of his back as he growled, mixing pain and pleasure from both of them.

He ran his tongue over her nipple piercing as he started moving faster, pumping into her, and feeling himself building up inside her tight, wet hole. Brunhilda was already losing sensibility from the pleasure, burying her face into his neck while letting out nonsensical gibberish. She moaned, her body seizing as Roland sent rippling orgasms and made her body shiver intensely.

Roland built his pace until he was slamming into the buxom dwarf, practically venting his frustrations into her body without easing up. He grunted with each thrust and felt himself almost hitting his breaking point. Brunhilda was too drunk in the pleasure that she could barely hold onto him. Finally, Roland found his own release as both he and Brunhilda screamed in ecstasy, slowing his momentum from filling her to the brim with his seed. They both fell to the ground, letting puffs of air exhaled from their breath. She turned to the window and saw the faint sunlight.

_Oh, Gods dammit. It's almost morning, but I want to stay a little longer._

"Roland," said Brunhilda. "We better get back to the house before the others wake up soon."

Brunhilda shuffled and curled up against Roland. She turned to her side, lifting herself onto her elbows and looked at him with a grin. However, Roland was unresponsive. Sleep finally claimed him as his eyes closed. That forced Brunhilda to help him up and got him dressed., Brunhilda chuckled while Carrying him in a manner fitting for a princess, making sure not to disturb him.

* * *

Dawn had passed, and noon nearly arose, the sun's cruel present reminding Roland that hangovers are a pain in the ass. Roland awoke with a groan, holding his head right at the moment when the cuckoo clock started chiming. The first time he ever had a strong brew, and he nearly threw up all over the wooden floor. Nevertheless, he managed to hold it together.

He found himself back in bed, but the memory of how he got back escaped him. Roland remembered talking to Brunhilda and drinking, but then he blacked out. Everything else became a blank. Scratching his unkempt hair, Roland got up and stumbled out. Roland made his way to the mirror and met with a slack jaw and bloodshot eyes. When his vision came back to him, he snapped around to the voice calling him from behind. Josephine sat on the other side, having already thrown her baggy clothes on and waited for Roland to wake up.

"Well, glad to finally see you up and at 'em, sunshine." She greeted, but her enthusiasm fell and quickly replaced with concern. She sauntered over and placed a hand on his forehead. "Roland, are you okay? You're not sick, are you?"

"Umm…yeah…I'm fine."

"Roland, I've known you for about half of my life, and I can tell when you're sick."

Roland waved his hand. He stumbled back and almost knocking against the mirror while he clutched at his head. Fortunately, Josephine was quick to catch him before he tripped on his bare feet.

"Come on, Roland. You better get back in bed, and I don't think you should start…" Right before Josephine laid Roland down, the door swung open, and the loud thud made his head hurt even more than it already did.

"Time to get up, you two. It's time to get the day started," said Brunhilda with a brash smile as she stood under the doorway.

Roland and Josephine shared the same irritated look towards the dwarf, and they wanted to tell her to shut the door. However, seeing Roland barely maintain his composure, Brunhilda needed to act fast. Thankfully, she's been through this so many times that she had lost count.

"Uh, oh. It looks like the marsh wine has done its magic too well." Brunhilda approached him, taking him from Josephine by the shoulder. "Come on, the only way to cure a hangover like this is a nice cup of strong, freshly brewed coffee."

"What are you talking about? What hangover?" Josephine glowered suspiciously, crossing her arms as she watched the two walked away.

Brunhilda stopped and didn't say anything for a second, but she explained to the woodsman's daughter about what she meant and about the drinking they did last night. Brunhilda also told her about the sword training and how she'll personally train Roland in the art. At first, Josephine was unnerved and wanted to ask if there was anything else that happened. Josephine shrugged, unsure what to say. Sure, she was suspicious, but she trusted Roland enough to know nothing else went on (or, so she thought).

"Oookay…well, that's a relief. I'm glad Roland's not sick, but we're still going to talk about all of that later," said Josephine, smiling. Sticking her hands in her pockets, she followed the two out the door and to the kitchen. "Though I should still thank you for helping me with him."

"Relax. It's no problem. You guys are my guests, and if there are any problems, I guarantee you'll get help from the Wayland family," right when the two were out of earshot, Brunhilda and leaned in and whispered to Roland, becoming amorous in tone with her face blushing. "Besides, after the fun we've had, I need to treat you with tender love and care. Isn't that right, lover boy?" she gave him a gentle wink, and all of Roland's memories resurfaced.

He remembered it all too well. The ecstasy, the pleasure, and the aftermath, it was all coming back to him as if a boulder struck him at full speed. Roland lowered his head, and his expression staled as he became thunderstruck. The pain of guilt immediately overshadowed the pain from the hangover. The two almost reached the end of the stairs. All the while, Roland's mind was reeling.

_Roland Mors, what the hell did you do?_


End file.
